“So, I’m going to assume he isn’t still pissed at you for keeping the whole Bryce incident from him?”
I grab my other ankle, stretching out my sore muscle. My vagina isn’t the only thing recovering from my marathon sex.
“Actually, he was more mad at himself than anything. He hates that he put me in that position in the first place, which is ridiculous. Like there isn’t a possibility of me running into that massive dickhead here. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t come into the shop since the last time.”
Joey straightens quickly, averting his gaze toward the busy street. I notice his shifty behavior and drop my leg, stepping sideways and forcing him to look at me.
“Joey, Bryce hasn’t set foot in my shop since his initial creepy visit, right?”
He drops his head from side to side, stretching out his neck. “He may have stopped in a few times while you were in the back or on a delivery. I dealt with it.”
Oh, that piece of shit. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He motions with his head for us to start running, setting the pace as we make our way down the sidewalk. “Because I dealt with it. The last time was weeks ago, and I told him to stay the hell away from you. He hasn’t been back since.”
I jump over the jagged part of the sidewalk I’m sure to trip over one of these days. “I want to know if he comes in again, Joey. I’m not putting up with this.” That jerk has another thing coming if he thinks I’m okay with him coming into my shop. I don’t care if it’s for treats or not. He can get his baked goods elsewhere. He probably wouldn’t even eat my decadent creations anyway. He’d probably just use them to taunt children or something; lure them into his creepy van with cookies and non-existent puppies.
I’m not sure when Bryce became a pedophile in my mind, but right now, that’s how I’m picturing him.
Joey huffs loudly as we make our way up the hill. “Can you get a restraining order on somebody for just being a creeper? My cousin tried to get one a few years ago on this guy who kept asking her out but the cops said because he hadn’t threatened her in any way, she couldn’t get one.”
I shake my head and push myself harder, picking up speed. “I don’t know. Slapping that asshead with a restraining order isn’t exactly the kind of violence I have in mind. I was thinking more along the lines of shoving his dumb ass into oncoming traffic.”
“Preach,” Joey says through a laugh. He turns around, jogging backwards as I slow down a bit. “Let’s talk about something else. You’re getting all worked up, and this week needs to be relaxing for you.” He spins back around and blows out a loud breath. “What time is the fitting tonight?”
I smile over at him, letting go of the anger causing me to clench my teeth. “6:30 p.m. Are you coming?”
“Of course. The Man of Honor wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
We both chuckle at the title I gave Joey when I asked him to be in my wedding six months ago. I couldn’t pick between him and Juls for the highly-coveted Maid of Honor spot. They are both so special to me, so I decided to make Juls my Matron, since she’s married, and Joey my Man. It works out perfectly, and Joey couldn’t be happier about it. He even tossed around the idea of getting it sequined on the back of his tux for the big day. I wouldn’t expect anything less.
“I can’t wait to see you in that dress. You’re going to look fabulous.”
I take off running, hearing him yelp behind me. He catches up and gives me a flustered look. “If I’m going to look fabulous, I need to burn off the booze we drank this weekend.” I nudge against him and he laughs. “Come on. I’ll race ya around the block.”
16
After my five-mile run, which leaves my legs feeling like over-cooked noodles, I dash upstairs and hop into my shower. Another reason why I love keeping the loft above my bakery is for this very reason; I don’t have to go back to the condo to get ready for my day after my daily runs. The space still looks the same, seeing as the only thing I moved out of here was half my wardrobe. I actually wouldn’t mind it if Reese agreed to just move in here after the wedding. I know it’s a small space, but I don’t need much. Of course, if we are to have kids, I’m not sure a one-bedroom loft will cut it. Especially if we have a lot of kids, which is what I’m leaning toward. I want a bakery filled with mini-Reeses’. Tons of green-eyed, messy-haired cuties who can taste test my creations all day. And if last night was any inclination as to how he feels about the subject, I’m thinking he won’t be disagreeing to that idea.
I hear my cell phone ring as I wrap a towel around my chest, prompting me to dart out of the bathroom and grab it off my bed before I miss the call. I don’t even register the name on my screen before I answer.
“Hello?”
“Hello, sweetheart. And how is my bride-to-be?”
My mom’s voice has me falling backwards onto the bed with an exhaustive grunt. Damn it to Hell. I should’ve looked at the name on the screen, or let this call go to voicemail entirely. There’s only one reason why she’s calling me. One topic she wants to discuss. I hear the sound of papers ruffling and know she’s got her trusted notepad ready, full of last-minute changes she’s about to suggest or insist I make. Because with five days until my wedding, we have all the time in the world to change shit around.
I rub my free hand down the side of my face, bracing myself for this phone call that will surely end in her throwing that same notepad across the room.