Chapter Two #4
“I like ramen. Running out of toilet paper is another matter.” Brooke licked her spoon clean and set the empty container on the end table. “I never liked that job for you. You’re so much better than that.”
“I don’t know about that.”
The cushions dipped as Brooke turned to sit facing Jo, her knee wedging against Jo’s hip. “What excuse did she use?”
“Oh, you know, the usual.” The remnants of Jo’s hysteria gushed out in a sharp chuckle two octaves higher than normal. “Raspberry petit fours and a prick with a hard-on and short-term memory.”
“Sounds intriguing. Spill.”
With a deep sigh, Jo recapped the night, starting with the mistake she’d made with the petit fours to Avery Preston’s horndog pursuit of her when things didn’t work out with the blonde with no name.
She held back telling Brooke about the powerful reaction she’d had to him.
How her body flooded with warmth at his nearness.
A tiny flutter echoed in her belly just recalling the moment he’d touched her.
Ugh. She shook off the memory and finished the story of getting fired and then finding him with What’s Her Name.
“Are you kidding me?” Brooke shook her head. “What a dick.”
“That’s what she said.” Or so Jo imagined What’s Her Name saying when she was on her knees, polishing that asshole’s knob. And just like that, the sting of being so easily replaced needled through her, pricking her pride and burning the edges of her self-confidence.
Disgusted with herself for letting him get to her, she sat forward to place her sweating cup on a stack of mail and wiped the condensation—and damn him, a bit of lust-induced sweat—on her skirt.
“Don’t put it there.” Brooke jumped to move the container from one stack of junk mail to another and picked up the lavender envelope.
Too late. A wet ring had already formed, not that Jo cared.
Brooke sat back. “You haven’t even opened it.”
Jo rubbed her hands over her face. She did not want to have this conversation. “I just got it, mmm…a couple of days ago.”
“It’s been over a week.” Brooke flipped over the homemade invitation covered in glittery wedding bells and their address handwritten in a childish print. “Are you thinking of not going?”
“I’m not thinking of not going.” Jo shrugged. “I just don’t want to think about going.”
Christmas was only seven weeks ago, and Jo had been hoping for no less than a six-month reprieve from her family. At least that was the last she’d heard. Jesus, her half-sister, Georgia, had talked of nothing but a June wedding. So, why the invitation in last week’s mail?
That can’t be good.
She looked at Brooke. “February is a little early to send out invitations for a June wedding, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Brooke didn’t wait for permission. She tore into the envelope and winced.
April first?
Too soon.
Jo groaned. “They’ll have a field day with my shit life.”
“You’ll have it put back together by then,” Brooke said with more confidence than Jo felt and studied the invitation. “April Fool’s Day? Weird day to pick for a wedding.” She slid a glance at Jo. “You think she’s pregnant?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Jo snorted as she toed off her boots. “If she is, it’s not like she’d tell me. I’m surprised I’m invited at all.”
Brooke laughed and tossed the invitation back on the table. Light glinted off something on her hand.
“You’ve got glitter all ov—” No, not glitter. Jo squealed and grabbed her hand, bringing it closer for inspection. “Oh, my god. What the fuck is this?”
Brooke’s eyes sparkled, her smile as bright as the huge diamond on her finger. “What does it look like?”
Jo turned the ring this way and that and grinned. “It looks like a big-ass rock the size of Texas.”
“Stop,” Brooke said, trying not to laugh as she tugged her hand free and held the symbol of her happily ever after to the light. “It’s not that big.” She gnawed the corner of her lip, for a second, then side-eyed Jo. “Is it?”
“No, it’s perfect,” Jo said softly, hating herself for putting doubt in Brooke’s mind. She shoved aside the sudden heaviness crushing her chest. Engagement meant marriage. Marriage meant losing her best friend. As long as Brooke was happy though… “He did good.”
“He did, didn’t he?” Brooke giggled and wagged her fingers. “Two carats.”
“Congratulations, I couldn’t be happier for you.” Jo wrapped her arms around Brooke and hugged her close. “I can’t believe you’re getting married.”
“Me either,” Brooke said, her hushed whisper as tight as the band around Jo’s chest, “I love him so much.”
“I should hope so,” Jo teased and pulled back to look into Brooke’s eyes, sparkling with happy, unshed tears. “You’re going to make the most beautiful bride.”
Brooke sniffed. “And you’ll be my maid of honor, just like we planned.”
“Only if you swear you won’t make me wear an ugly dress.”
Laughter trickled from Brooke. “No ugly dress, I promise.” She released Jo and sat back. “You’ll do my cake, of course.”
“Goes without saying.” Jo had sketched the original design for Brooke’s wedding cake years ago when they were both still young enough to believe in fairy tales.
Over the years, she’d pull it out to make alterations, according to the current trends Brooke oohed and aahed over, especially after she began photographing weddings. “When’s the big day?”
“I don’t know. He just proposed today.”
“You should have led with that.” It would have made the robbery, and the rest of her night, less devastating. Jo propped her feet on the coffee table and stretched her arms over her head. “That gives us plenty of time to plan then.”
Time to get used to the idea.
“Yeah, but…”
There was something else, and by the anxious look on Brooke’s face, it couldn’t be good. Jo’s arms flopped to her sides. “What?”
“Nothing.” But Brooke’s lip was back between her teeth.
“Spit it out.”
“He… He wants me to move in with him, and I said yes.”
Jo nodded and forced a smile as her world tilted on its axis just a little more. “Well, that’s the next step, right? Moving in together before the wedding, setting up house. And think of the fun we’ll have redecorating that bachelor pad.”
Yet everything was happening so fast, too fast. How could she help plan the beginning of Brooke’s new life when hers had gone off the rails? When they’d been together through thick and thin, sisters for life, and now, she’d be alone.
Jo swallowed hard. “When?”
Brooke’s gaze dropped to her hands. “The end of the month.”
So much for having time to get used to the idea.
“But I won’t,” Brooke rushed on, her head snapping up. “I’ll tell him I’m not ready. Not until you’re back on your feet.”
“Don’t you dare.” Grabbing Brooke’s hand, Jo stuffed the ache of loss into the cavernous hole in her heart, growing deeper by the minute.
She’d make it on her own. She always did.
“This is what happens when you grow up, babe, and it’s not like you’re moving across the country.
We’ll still see each other all the time, and if you think I’m giving up our morning chats, think again. Aaron will just have to suck it.”
Brooke laughed, choking on her tears. “Sorry, it just hit me…not having you in the next room…and how much I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, but hey, we’re family. I’ll always be there for you.”
“And me for you.”
Jo inhaled a deep breath and exhaled long and slow. “So, enough of this sappy shit. We have a move to plan—and a wedding—and I have to find a job. Tomorrow, we’ll get boxes, and I’ll help you pack. And you can help me bake all weekend because, come Monday, I’m a woman on a mission.”
Nodding, Brooke lifted the hem of her T-shirt to wipe away her tears. “What’s on the menu?”
They’d been down this bumpy road too many times, started over too many times not to know the drill. Nothing to do but keep pushing through.
Time to put on your big girl panties. Grandma’s words when things got tough. They’d made her and Brooke laugh when they were kids with no real problems, but now…
“I was thinking about the mini version of Grandma’s pecan pie.”
“Mmm, yes.” Brooke licked her lips. “And you have to make those banana chocolate chip cookies. And your famous apple croissants.”
As they made a list for what they’d need to move Brooke out of the apartment and Jo’s career back on path, Jo felt a little better. And later, when her head hit the pillow, she heard her grandma whisper, “Dreams don’t work unless you do.”
On the heels of such sage wisdom, another voice slithered into her subconscious, the deep baritone skating over her skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“I can make your dreams come true.”