Page 45 of Holiday Friend Zones
“You got it, Baby.”
A shiver rips up my spine as he calls meBaby, wishing—not for the first time—that it was real.That the deep rumble of his voice was whispering that word, right along with so many others, into my ear as he held me close, ready to cross the line.
Closing my eyes, I imagine it for a second, letting myself have that split-second fantasy of what it could be like.My breath catches, a rush of heat washing over me.
“Know what we should do?”Davis asks, cutting into my thoughts, disrupting me before I’m too far gone.“We should have a bachelor/bachelorette party.Tomorrow night, at the Post.Celebrate our last night of freedom together.”
I scoff laugh, shaking my head.“Celebrating our last night of freedom together, before we start our life together?”
“Exactly.It’s how we would have done it if one of us were marrying someone else.”
Man has a point.There is no version of either of our weddings that doesn’t involve us celebrating with each other at the local hole-in-the-wall bar.To be fair, getting to this point in life wasn’t on either of our radars, since neither of us has been in a relationship recently.Both of us had our last relationship end because the people we were seeing didn’t like said friendship.
Ooops.
“Touché.Then tomorrow night, the Post.For one last hurrah, before our first hurrah?”
Davis chuckles.“Something like that.”
“Well, if we’re gonna do this, I guess I gotta find a dress.”
A soft knock sounds in the background, followed by some muffled voices.I can hear Davis whisper something, although I can’t quite make out what it is, but judging by the tone, it’s something about work.
“Yes, go find a dress,” he replies in a rush.“Dinner tonight to nail down details?”
“Sure.”
“Great.Love you, Kyra.”
Davis hangs up without another word, leaving me sitting here, with nothing but my racing heart and my jumbled brain.That can only think one thing.
I’m going to marry Davis.
Chapter Two
KYRA
“Do you think a wedding dresshasto be white?”
I gently float the question, holding up a soft pink dress with long sleeves and an A-line skirt that should hit just past my knee.Simple, classy, could be worn again.Checks a lot of boxes.
Girl math hard at work.
“Ummm, I mean, I think if it’s the whole big, traditional church thing, then, yeah, probably should be,” my older sister Lindee answers, absentmindedly flipping through the rack behind me.
I don’t need to turn around to know that she didn’t even look up to answer the question, her black-framed glasses sliding down her nose, blonde hair shoved carelessly up into a ponytail.When I texted her last night and asked her if she wanted to drive over to Knoxville with me to go shopping, I left out the part about it being for a specific occasion.Much less what specific occasion.Which is why she is dressed like she just walked out of the distillery in her dirty jeans along with a Tennessee Trouble-branded Henley and vest.Three days before Christmas, the mall is too busy for anyone to notice though.
“But not for the courthouse, right?”
“Then, no.”She pauses, turning to me.She scrunches her nose, thinking for a second.“If someone’s eloping, pretty much all bets are off, and the dress can be whatever color.”
Good to know…
“Good.Because this might be a front-runner for my wedding dress.”
“Excuse you?”
Lindee’s voice could break glass it’s so high, her eyes all but bulging straight out of her head.Her jaw drops open as she stumbles backward, nearly taking out a small display of shirts with her.A group of middle-aged women fuss at her about watching where she’s going, but she ignores them, still too focused on me, shock fully registering on her face.
