Page 111 of Love Is an Art
Zeke:8?
Me:Sounds perfect.
Zeke:And we can continue celebrating this weekend in the Catskills.
Would Mr. Howard have fooled me if I had just met him? Would I have taken him for a nice guy? I don’t think so. And not because I’m suspicious. I’ve learned to read body language. I can trust my instincts as to who is a good guy and who isn’t. Zeke is a good guy. Whereas Wyatt was not without an ulterior motive—he wanted a partner who reflected well on him. And I knew that from the beginning. Maybe that’s why I never opened up that much to Wyatt. I don’t think I need to worry that Zeke isn’t sincere.
I should let myself fall completely for Zeke.
Chapter thirty-five
Zeke
Thesmoothvoiceofthe GPS says, “Turn right in half a mile.”
We’re on our way to Dylan’s wedding. This road dips into a valley between the mountains that frame the landscape. Tessa volunteered to drive so I could practice my toast for the rehearsal dinner at eight.
“I still can’t believe I’m getting a FLAFL award this Thursday,” Tessa says, her eyes on the road ahead. “I’m so honored. You can come with me as my guest to the dinner, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say. “It’s the turn after that blinkingRooms Freesign up ahead.”
Tessa pulls into a parking space in front of the reception building. We’re staying at a motel off the main road. Little, wooden cabins dot the landscape. Fairy lights decorate the office door.
“It’s cute,” Tessa says. “Are other guests staying here?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “But the bed is solid, it has good water pressure, and there’s no moldy smell.”
“Did the other option have a moldy smell, no shower pressure, and sinking beds?”
I laugh. “I usually stay here when I ski. The cabins are cozy, and the young couple who runs it is very nice. They bought this place a few years ago, and I like supporting them. The other option was the hotel where the wedding is being held. I didn’t want to stay there.”
“Is Paisley staying there?”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head. “Zeke. You can’t stay at the same hotel as her?” Disappointment tinges her voice.
I hug her close. “Maybe I wanted you all to myself.”
She kisses me lightly on the lips. “Okay. Points for that. Keep talking.”
“C’mon. I’ll get the key, and then we can get ready for the rehearsal dinner.”
I open the door to our motel room. It’s your basic huge bed in the middle of the room, a small kitchen and bathroom in the back. The room smells of freshly washed sheets. On the desk is a big, white wedding basket with water bottles and snacks. Typical Lindsay. To even send a basket here. She runs a tight ship. Above the bed is a photograph of the mountains around us. It’s much better than the usual motel art and décor.
My phone beeps.
Arthur:Need memo on the investment potential of Peekaboo by Sunday. Due date changed.
“Arthur strikes again.” That was supposed to be due next Friday.
But I’m ahead of him. I did it earlier this week because I didn’t want that hanging over my head on a weekend with Tessa.
Tessa slips off her shoes at the entrance, pulls in her suitcase, and hangs up her garment bag in the closet.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“My boss moved up some memo to Sunday, as if he knows I’m away this weekend.”
