Chapter 1 Rose #2
“Okay,” I tell him, forcing the words out. “I’ll see what I can do. If you text me the details, if he hasn’t left by the time I get there… I’ll ride with him. I don’t want to miss your wedding.”
“You won’t regret it. You’ll see.”
I already do.
We hang up and I look across my bedroom at the backpack I’d stuffed with a few essentials late last night.
Despite having months to prepare, I’d put off packing until the last possible moment.
The bag is light—a few sets of clothes, toiletries, my herbal medicine kit I never travel without, and the secondhand dress I’d bought at a vintage shop in Chelsea for the wedding rehearsal dinner.
I was still looking for work, and didn’t want to blow a bunch of money on a dress I’d only wear once, but the fabric clung to my curves in all the right places and for the first time in months, I caught myself smiling at my reflection.
So, I bought it. And fortunately, the bridesmaids’ dresses were all supposed to match, so I knew my sister wouldn’t hose me in that department since she’d have to wear the same thing.
My dad deserves to be happy, and this is the start of his new life. He’s been lighter since meeting Johanna. He’s right, the least I can do is show up. Besides, maybe a vacation from unemployment is exactly what I need.
A loud knock on my bedroom door has me glancing up. I call out a half-hearted “Yeah,” before the door opens a crack.
My best friend peeks through the opening lest I be scantily clad, before swinging it wide, his massive frame filling the doorway.
“Oh, good, you’re dressed. And late. Shocker.
You need a ride to the airport? Also, did you hear about that storm coming through?
They should really think about postponing or moving the wedding. ”
I bury my head in my hands and snort. “Um… about that…”
Easton pushes his way into my room, then busies himself by picking up clothes strewn about and tossing them into the hamper. He’s a notoriously neat man, and I do my best to contain my mess to this room.
“My flight was canceled. Dad arranged for me to fly with Logan Wells.”
Easton drops a nightie and grimaces. “Oh.”
“Indeed.”
“So… this is like a luxury private jet situation?” He holds in his laugh for all of a second before it bursts out of him. “Shit. That’s like, your worst nightmare. What about the storm?”
I shrug. “Apparently, no one is worried about that.”
He scoffs. “Of course not. Pearl probably assumes she can manifest good weather by sheer will, so the storm won’t affect her perfect day. Oh, excuse me—your dad’s perfect day. If she and Logan ever tie the knot, god fucking help the rest of us.”
My throat tightens a bit, hearing his name again.
Despite my loathing of the man, Logan has always made my body feel weird.
I get hot and itchy under my skin, my stomach twists, and when Pearl waxes poetic about him, I just want to jab a pen in my ear.
The fact that she’s currently dating someone else hasn’t lessened her obsession with him.
Pearl’s just killing time with other men, waiting for Logan to finally make a move. And honestly, with the way he tolerates her drama, I’m sure he feels the same way about her, at least to some degree. He’s just too busy to settle down right now—Pearl’s words.
“Right, well, if you need a ride to his holiness’s hangar, I don’t have to be at practice until noon.”
“You’re flying out tomorrow?”
He nods, wrinkling his nose at the cheesecake-crusted plate on my dresser.
Easton towers over me at six and a half feet, with shoulders broad as a doorway.
He shaves his head but maintains a small, dark beard that hides his chiseled jaw and perfect bone structure.
He claims he doesn’t shave his beard because he’s lazy, but I think he secretly enjoys meticulously styling it each morning.
With sparkling hazel eyes contrasting warm brown skin, the man is a walking underwear ad—thoroughly gorgeous.
The exaggerated disgust on his face as he pinches the edge of the plate between two fingers, holding it away from his body like it might infect him, makes me giggle.
With the season starting, Easton will be gone for months—three to four games weekly until playoffs, if they make it.
And even though he absolutely does not have time to chauffeur me to the Wells’ hangar outside the city, I say yes, because by the time I return from the wedding, he’ll be gone, so it’ll be nice to spend extra time with him.
Living with Easton is like a warm hug. My mom adored him, too, and he’s the only person in my life aside from my dad who got to know her, and it makes our friendship that much more valuable. That he lets me live here rent-free is just the cherry on top of how awesome my best friend is.
“Before you go, do you have any of that muscle rub?” Easton asks.
“The minty camphor one or the galangal and capsicum one?”
“The spicy one.”
I nod and crawl out of bed toward the dresser full of herbs and tinctures where folded clothes should be. Over my shoulder, I ask, “How many?”
He crowds at my back, peering in. “As many as you can spare. The guys wanted me to grab them a jar if you had extras. Heinick prefers the mint one, though.”
Something warm moves through me at that. I pull the jars out, line them up on the dresser, and dig around for a used cardboard box I can refold and fill.
“I’ll Venmo you—”
“Don’t you dare,” I scold him, shoving the box into his arms.
He softens. “You worked hard making these, and they are amazing. You deserve to get paid for your work.”
I struggle with his words, incongruent with my own inner critic. After the downfall of my business plan, losing all my money, the accusations from complete strangers and someone I love that I’m not good enough, that I’m a fraud—hearing Easton try to encourage me somehow makes it worse.
“You know it’s not over, right?” he tries again.
Ignoring that, I say, “Since your friends employ me when I don’t even have a practice, consider these a gift.” I push the box again, and he takes it, nodding.
My phone lights up before I can get emotional. I’ve been waiting to hear from my real estate agent. The massive building I own has been hemorrhaging money, and without my practice filling it, I can’t afford the taxes on it, let alone a build-out.
Nothing from her. Instead, it’s my dad with flight instructions.
“Plane leaves in an hour and a half.”
Easton lifts an eyebrow at my deadpan tone. “I can practically feel the excitement radiating off you.”
I throw a pillow at him, and he shakes his head and laughs as he leaves my room to get ready, knocking his fingers on the doorframe on the way out. “Better get a move on, it’ll take us that long to get out of the city.”