Page 12 of So Wrong It's Right

“She’s not getting married, though, right? It’s your brother’s wedding?”

“Well, yes. But she’s very invested.”

Christopher shrugs. “I think too much importance is placed on the wedding in our culture. The focus should be on the compatibility of the couple.”

Dammit. I agree with him, but it still ruffles my feathers. “Our culture? You’re from Bellevue.” What I don’t want to do is defend my sister right now. Megan is crazy and the wedding business is worse. But...his attitude really bothers me.

“There is a Japanese couple in my building. They were introduced by a nakodo, a matchmaker.”

“An arranged marriage?”

“Not exactly. They were just well matched. It’s an arrangement, but one that suits the bride and the groom for longevity, not for the whims of the heart or for family finances. It worked out well for them.”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t do that. When I get married, I want my groom to be so crazy in love that nothing in his life makes sense. And I’ll feel the same.”

“Of course you would.”

The phone rings, so I’m spared having to argue with him about why the heart matters more than the head. Why romance, a bigger-than-life courtship, is so important. I’m holding out for what my parents have.

After the Year of Stella, of course. And when I get over my commitment phobia. Which I’m sure will be after the Year of Stella.

At my desk, I pick up the line, surprised to hear from Doc. She wants to speak to us both, but my speaker button stops working, so Christopher rounds the counter and stands next to me, sharing the receiver with me.

He’s pressing against my side, and I inhale deeply, surprised by the scent of his shampoo or aftershave. Or soap. Whatever it is, he smells like a sultry, mulled wine. Spicy, tangy, intoxicating. I try to focus on Doc’s voice, but instead, I steal a glance up at Christopher...and find him watching me.

Damn that fuzzy picture of him on the internet! He’d been safe then. Mostly dorky and far away. Now I realize he isn’t dorky, he is imposing and too masculine for my liking, but only because I like it way too much. It doesn’t make any sense. He is 100 percent awkward nerd, I am sure of it. So how does that translate into a wall of man I want to scale? And damn the perpetual beige tie. Does he really not own anything with color?

I wonder what he is thinking when he looks at me this way. Surely his thoughts are not echoing mine because, well, because that would be ridiculous. I’m not his type. I annoy him at every turn. He probably likes petite girls with lithe limbs and nimble figures. If he were a chubby chaser, he’d have come on to me by now.

He’s staring at me but still managing to answer Leann. What had she just said? “Taking longer than we thought.” I pay closer attention, pulling my gaze away from Christopher with the strength required to walk Mrs. Standish’s poorly trained St. Bernard when he boards at the clinic.

“Would you be able to stay longer, Christopher?”

ThatI hear.

How am I going to do this?

“Of course,” he answers. Is he pushing into me on purpose? “However long you need. We’ll make it work.”

I look back into his face and find him staring at my cleavage this time. Huh.

We hang up the phone and he ...is he blushing?

“Well,” he says and clears his throat. “Looks like I can make it to your brother’s wedding after all.”

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