Page 70 of For You & No One Else (Say Everything 3)

“Antiquated,” she said, unimpressed.

He sipped his coffee. “Yes. Do you know why bridesmaids exist?”

She put her hand on her hip and struck a pose. “To look super fly in matching dresses?”

“No, they used to travel with the bride on the way to the wedding, dressed like her, so that if any other dudes wanted to kidnap the bride, they’d get confused and steal a bridesmaid instead.”

Eliza scoffed, slightly horrified. “That cannot be true.”

“I kid you not.” He tossed his empty coffee cup in the little trash bin in the hallway. “Same with the best-man thing. That’s the dude who’s the ‘best’ in a sword fight if some kidnapper shows up to steal his friend’s property, his prized virgin bride.” He leaned against her doorjamb, arms and ankles crossed. “When you dig into the details, the whole marriage and wedding thing was based on some pretty messed-up stuff. Not love.”

“Your romantic streak is truly inspiring,” she said, pressing her hands to her heart. “You should write sonnets.”

“I didn’t make up the history.”

She sighed. “Should I even ask how you know all this stuff? Late-night Wikipedia surfing? Plans to go onJeopardy!?”

He considered her for a moment, and she thought he was going to give her some throwaway answer, but then he said, “My parents were—are—very fundamentalist in their religious beliefs. When I was old enough to realize that not everyone was that way, I made it my business to find out everything I could about where those beliefs came from, the origin, the reasons, so I could figure out what it was thatIbelieved.”

“Wow, that takes guts, to push back against what you’ve been taught,” she said, another piece of the Beckham puzzle shifting into place. This guy was all still waters, but every now and then he gave her a glimpse of what was beneath. “Is that why you and your parents don’t get together on Christmas?”

“That’s why we don’t get together ever.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He pushed up from the doorjamb, straightening. “And damn, how’d we end up in this conversation?” He laughed a little stiffly. “I think you just used your therapist magic on me.”

“No. Just being a friend, wanting to know more about you,” she said. “But I’ll respectfully disagree with you about the marriage thing. I think marriage is whatever the two people who are in it make of it. Sometimes that’s a bad thing and it doesn’t work out. Sometimes that’s a beautiful thing that becomes a lifelong commitment. Sometimes it falls somewhere in between. Andi and Hill? They’re going to be great together. They’re the forever kind.”

He nodded. “I wish them nothing but the best, honestly. And hopefully no marauding kidnappers come to sweep you away during the ceremony.”

She sniffed. “Hill’s a former firefighter. I think he and his firefighter friends will be able to keep the guests safe from marauders. Maybe I’ll make sure my date brings a sword just in case.”

“Glad to know you’ll be safe.” He glanced down the hallway. “Speaking of dates, I chatted with Will earlier because he’s lending me a book. He said he was going to meet you here tonight, so he could drop it off to me.”

“Yeah, he should be here soon. We’re going out to dinner. I was about to get changed,” she said, this conversation feeling slightly surreal. A few days ago, Beckham had been naked beneath her. Now they were casually chatting about the guy she was about to go out with.

“Cool.” He stepped backward into the hallway. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks.”

She shut her door and grabbed her bag from under her desk. She still had about twenty minutes before Will was supposed to get here, but she wanted to be ready to go. She changed out of her gray pantsuit and into pair of black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder pink top. Casual and comfortable but still dressy enough for a date. She was just swiping on a fresh coat of lipstick when her phone buzzed.

Beckham:Will’s here in my office. Head over when ready.

She stared at the message. God, this was bizarre. She could write a whole chapter in her book about this moment.

She texted him back, took another minute or two to finish touching up her makeup, and then she headed out. When she stepped into Beckham’s office, Will turned her way and smiled. “Hey.”

She returned the smile. “Hi.” Will looked downright dashing out of his tiger onesie. He’d worn dark jeans and a light-blue button-down shirt untucked. He’d rolled up the sleeves a little, exposing his well-muscled forearms and a stylish gold watch that caught the light. His whole vibe was casual but with a refined and expensive edge. She could see him making an argument in a courtroom and wooing jurors to his side.

He came over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “You look great.”

“Thanks, you too,” she said and then glanced at Beckham, who was behind his desk, feet propped up on it and arms crossed, his vintage Pearl Jam T-shirt stretched along his chest.

Beckham gave her a mischievous look. “No one’s going to tell me how great I look? I’m hurt.”

Will snorted.

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