Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
A hue of pink fills his face as his gaze averts to the right. Sliding my water and the wrapped silverware toward him, I move to his side of the table. “Scooch over.”
He eyes me suspiciously but obliges.
I sit next to him and rest my elbow on the table, cheek in my hand, as I gaze at him and smile. “My first year in college, I went on a date, and this couple … maybe in their thirties … were sitting in a booth, on the same side. They must have ordered one of everything on the menu because their table was filled with food when we were seated, and they were still there when we left the restaurant. I watched them more than I paid attention to my date. They laughed. Ate. Playfully nudged each other. And sometimes he leaned into her and whispered something in her ear. She grinned. He kissed her cheek. They seemed to take turns resting a hand on each other’s leg. It was like they had all the time in the world. And they certainly didn’t care what anyone else in the restaurant thought of them because they were so engrossed in each other.” My other hand rests on Zach's leg.
He smiles and it’s a little reminiscent of the smile he used to give Suzie.
“So,” I continue, “I remember thinking that one day I would find a guy worthy of sharing the same side of a booth with me.”
Zach's grin intensifies, warm like the sun hitting its highest point in the afternoon sky. His fingers curl my hair behind one ear while he leans into me and whispers, “I’m going to order the Belgium waffle with a side of eggs.” Then his lips brush along my cheek, dropping a kiss on it.
I giggle.
We spend the next hour and a half eating, flirting, touching, and simply being totally engrossed with each other. It’s butterfly season in my belly. Did Suzie know Zach would be the one to give me them? Was it more than just a casual hope, a wink of approval?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Three days before the wedding, I slide out of bed and hit the pavement for a long jog. Sometimes exercise gives me clarity, but not this morning. By the time I arrive home, Zach is dressed and watering the plants in the jungle. “You snuck out early,” he says as I inspect a few of the plants and pinch off the dead leaves like Suzie taught me to do. “You should have woken me; I would have gone with you.”
“I needed some headspace,” I say.
“O-kay …” Zach sets the watering can aside and rests his hands on my hips, inspecting me for a few seconds. “Are you better now?”
“I think so.”
He kisses me, and I can’t help but surrender to him. I don’t like feeling so out of sorts about our situation.
“Do you have a dress for the wedding?”
I take a step back and laugh. “I’m a fashion loving woman … you’re not actually asking me that, are you?”
Zach chuckles. “You’re right. But fashion loving women can never have too many dresses.”
“Zach, Zach, Zach … you speak my language. I might never let you go.”
Something in his expression changes. He looks … fearful? Surprised? I can’t tell.
“Do you have a tux rented?”
He shakes his head. “It’s a small gathering, immediate family and a few friends. Aaron said I can wear a suit.”
“I need to see your suits.”
“Why? There’s nothing wrong with my suits.”
I shoulder past him toward the bedroom. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“So now you’re judging my wardrobe?” He follows me.
“Yes. I am absolutely judging your wardrobe. I’ve silently judged it since the day we met.” I sift through all two of his suits that aren’t for his job.
“The gray one. Suzanne liked it best,” he says.
I glance over my shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “Agreed. You look very handsome in this gray suit. But … you wore it to her funeral. You are done wearing it.”
“No one will remember that I wore it to her funeral. It’s a plain gray suit. Nobody pays attention to stuff like that.”
I set his black suit on the bed and return to the closet to inspect his shirts and ties. “And by nobody, you mean men—men don’t pay attention to stuff like that. But I guarantee your mom will remember you wore this suit. I’m sure the image of her oldest son standing in his gray suit next to his wife’s casket is branded into her memory forever.”
“Suzanne loved this suit,” he murmurs, a fixed gaze on it.
“She loved you.” I pull several shirts from their hangers. “Those are threads woven into a suit. Now it’s a memory of a very sad day.”
“So is my bed.”
I fold the shirts over my arm and glance up at him. “Then get a new bed.”