Page 113 of Champagne Fizz

“Exactly,” Connor confirms, the expression on my face giving me away. “Don’t call it fucking if you don’t want to, call it making love, or—”

“We have not had intercourse!”

“Fine, she’s come on your face, or your hands, I don’t care. The point is you definitely have carnal knowledge.”

“Whatever I’ve done with Kendall isn’tany of your business,” I defend, knowing she’d freak out if she knew this conversation was happening. I promised to be discreet.

“You’re right,” Connor agrees, to my surprise. “Except here you are Marie Kondo-ing my stock room and asking yourself if pickles give you joy or not.”

I shake my head. “What are you even talking about? Joy from pickles?”

“You know …” Connor gives me awhy don’t you know thislook. “… the Japanese lady with the tidying book?”

“Uh, sure.” I shrug, not having a clue what he’s talking about.

“Youof all people haven’t read the tidying book?” Connor motions to my happy piles of organizational bliss. “Youwho’s probably getting a hard-on from tearing this stock room apart and would get an even bigger hard-on from reading a book about how organization is the key to spiritual enlightenment?”

I tick my head to the side. “You’re right,” I admit. “That does sound like a book I’d be into.”

“Yeah.” Connor nods condescendingly. “My point is, if your wanker is half as big as one of these jumbo pickles, I’m sure the wedding planner is feeling all kinds of joy, so what did you do to fuck it up?”

“It’s complicated,” I admit.

“If she’s orgasming, it’s not complicated,” Connor retorts. “Either your wanker is the size of a gherkin, or feelings got involved … which is why I wanted you to wait until after the wedding.”

“It’s over,” I say quickly. “We’re not happening, so your point is moot. The wedding will be just fine.”

“Again,” Connor gestures to the stock room. “You’re in my shit, fucking it up. So, no, everything isn’t going to bejust fine. You’re meddling! And thank God it’s with my crap, because the second you start micromanaging Arie’s shit, we’re going to have a volcano exploding.”

Crap. He’s right. If Arie had found me in here, her anger levels would be off the charts.

“Well, Arie didn’t find me, now did she?” I toss back like a haughty teenager to which Connor gives me his signature I-used-to-be-a-lawyer-and-now-I’m-going-to-obliterate-you frown.

“You have two seconds to tell me how you’re going to fix this,” he growls.

I point to the stacks of food and then the shelves, emphasizing that I was already getting it done.

“I’m talking about the wedding planner, dipshit,” he clarifies. “I’mthe one you’re going to have to pay to put this room back the way it was.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I say, trying to nudge my way past him.

“Nope,” Connor hooks his arm around my neck, effectively putting me in a headlock.

“Woah! This is harassment,” I complain. “Maybe you and Arie like to work out your issues with erotic-asphyxiation, but I’m—”

“Tell me what happened with the wedding planner.” Connor’s hold tightens.

“It’s not your business.”

“The second you walked in this storage closet you made it my business. Now start talking before Arie finds us and unleashes the dragon.”

I slap on his arm to get him to release me and he does. “It’s personal,” I hiss, maneuvering to the far side of the closet and out of his reach.

“It usually is,” he says dryly, “now fess up.”

“It’s personal for Kendall,” I snap, rubbing my neck. “There are things she wouldn’t want you to know.”

“How chivalrous.”

---