41. Callie
CHAPTER 41
CALLIE
I f my sister is getting more excited as her wedding approaches, our mom is getting more manic.
Everyone else seems to be enjoying their food at the rehearsal dinner, but Mom is constantly fussing over details, questioning the staff, and reminding the bridal party about whatever random thing pops into her head. I kind of feel sorry for her, and wish she could relax.
Right now, she has Mr. Hargrove cornered by the bar, and based on previous encounters I’ve seen, I imagine she’s trying to impress him by reviewing many of the finer details of tomorrow’s events.
Miles and I are seated at one end of a long banquet table, and thankfully, we’re at the opposite end from Alexis and Rick.
“Do you see the strange man here that you told Max about?” Miles asks in a whisper I can barely hear. The men must have compared notes while I was in the bathroom getting ready.
“No, he’s not here. Maybe he’s a work associate of Mr. Hargrove.”
Miles’s mouth is drawn in a thin straight line. “Maybe, but if you see him again, keep your distance.”
I squint at him. “Really? I’m sure I was just being paranoid.”
“Maybe, but it can’t hurt to trust your gut feelings. They’re usually there for a reason.”
After the way Rick tricked me, I have no reason to trust my instincts. I’m not certain I truly have any. Obviously, not the kind that protect me.
When people near us make conversation, Miles turns on his good social graces and joins in, but when it’s just the two of us, he seems distracted and borderline grumpy. He reminds me of the Miles I first met in yoga class.
I wonder if he’s having second thoughts about offering to share my bed tonight. Maybe he’s been worrying about my admission that our fake dating is starting to seem real, and he’s trying to take a step back.
When I catch him frowning as he cuts into his chicken, I lean in. “Are you okay? Is this—” I gesture to encompass the dinner, my mom, this whole multi-day event. “…getting to be too much?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you getting … bored?”
His brows lift, giving me the idea that he’s surprised by my question, and then he frowns. “No, I’m enjoying myself—when I’m with you, that is.”
His eyes hold me for a long moment, my belly doing a funny little flip-flop as I notice flecks of gold in the warm brown of his irises. My cheeks heat, and I break our gaze to get a drink of water.
Under the table, his hand comes to my knee, grasping it gently. When I meet his eyes again, his focus drops to my lips, and then he leans in to give me a brief kiss, the kind that’s perfectly suited to public occasions in front of family.
His affection feels genuine, but is he just playing his role incredibly well? Did my comment spur him back into fake-boyfriend action?
“Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” he asks as we resume eating.
My first thought is that I’m looking forward to tonight, to hopefully being in his arms, and I’d say that if I felt certain he was feeling the same way.
Instead, I keep my answer focused on the wedding. “Yeah, I think it’ll be a great day.”
“I’m glad you’re looking forward to it, not just looking to get it over with, like you were before.” He bends next to my ear to say this, the heat of him lighting a fire inside me. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”
Though his concern is kind, I can’t help but wonder if it’s just part of him doing me a favor by being here, like his brother changing out my car battery as part of his mission to do good deeds.
The problem is that after what’s been going on between us, I want to believe that they’re here because they want to be with me, not because they see me as a girl in need of help.
The thought of them having genuine interest in me gives me a warm feeling all over, until I remember that there’s two of them, and only one of me. And that they’re brothers.
I don’t know what I’m thinking can come of this. Even if I had a fling with one of them, like Sadie first suggested, there’s a chance the other one would be hurt.
How did I get myself into this situation?
The only sensible way out is to lean into the fact that they’re doing me a favor. They’re just pretending, even if they’re doing much too good a job of it.
As dessert is being served, Mom comes by yet again, this time to remind me of my hair appointment at the resort’s salon tomorrow morning, even though we just went over that information at the rehearsal, and nothing has changed.
“Before you go to the salon, can you make sure all of the other bridesmaids are on their way, too, Callie? I don’t want anyone to be late. The whole schedule will be thrown off.”
As soon as I agree to that, she says, “Oh, and it looks like your sister’s in need of another glass of wine. Can you get her another from the bar? It’s chardonnay.”
I’m not sure why Adam wouldn’t fetch his bride-to-be a refill, or why my mom, who’s been flitting around the room all evening, wouldn’t grab it while she’s making her rounds, but I set my fork down and get up from my chair, telling Miles I’ll be right back.
He reaches for my arm before I can walk off. “I’ll get it.”
“I got it. Thank you, though.” It’s probably a good idea to put some distance between Miles and myself for a couple of minutes, anyway. Watching him eat the whipped cream on the strawberry shortcake isn’t going to do me or my hormones any favors.
Up at the bar, after I make my request, the bartender turns away to grab a glass from the shelf on the wall. Suddenly, there’s a voice in my ear, and the unpleasant weight of a body pressing against me. “Don’t move, Callie. You’re going to stay right here and listen to what I have to say.”