He flexes it several times before grabbing my hip with his other hand and pulling me against his chest. “It’s not broken. I’ll ice it when I get to Ian’s.”
As if he hears his name, Ian comes up to us and slaps Reese on the back. “Come on, man. She’ll be all yours tomorrow.”
Reese looks at him and then back down at me. He tilts my chin up. “Every five minutes.”
I press my lips against his. “You got it.”
Juls and Joey flank my side and we watch our men walk toward their vehicles. They both grab one of my hands.
“You ready for your last sleepover as a single woman?” Juls asks.
I smile at Reese as he looks back at me one last time before getting into his car.
Yup. Absolutely. “I’m so fucking ready.”
When we get back to the bakery, Juls and I help Joey carry the dresses inside and up the stairs to my practically empty loft. After changing into our pajamas, I hang my dress up and unzip the bag, smiling as the white lace slowly comes into view. I run my hand over the material while Juls and Joey laugh on the bed behind me.
“It’s been five minutes, cupcake,” Joey reminds me.
I zip up the bag and grab my phone before falling back onto the bed between the two of them.
“Thank God all this shit with Bryce is over,” Juls says as I type my message to Reese. “I can’t believe Ian didn’t tell me the real reason for working with him.”
I press send and look over at her. “They couldn’t. You know Ian wouldn’t keep anything from you unless he absolutely had to.”
“Fo’ reals. I’m sure he’d tell you the nuclear codes if he had them,” Joey jokes. “I’m actually surprised he didn’t spill it. That man likes to gossip more than me.”
Juls reaches over me and slaps his arm. “No one likes to gossip more than you.”
My phone beeps as I laugh at the two of them. I hold it above my head and quickly scan Reese’s message.
Reese: I told you. My hand is fine.
“So, are you ready to move out of here permanently, sweets?” Juls asks.
I look down my body and around the empty space surrounding my bed, tucking my hands behind my head after placing my phone on my chest. All the sadness I felt just last week at the very thought of moving is absent. The boxes stacked against the wall and on the kitchen counter no longer depress me. This is my last night in my loft, and although I once never imagined leaving it, I can no longer picture myself living here. The majority of the memories I have of this space are missing one vital element. And I want all my memories to include him.
I look over at her and smile. “What’s your favorite memory of being here?”
“Hmm. I don’t know. We’ve had so many good ones,” she replies, grabbing the pillows and handing them out to us. She takes one for herself and places it under her head. “You?”
I open my mouth to tell her I have no idea when Joey cuts me off.
“Well, I’ll tell you what mine wasn’t. Fucking tequila drinking games.” Juls and I both make noises of agreement as Joey rolls on his side facing us. He smiles that winning smile of his. “You’re getting married tomorrow, cupcake. And I think you need to let everyone on this fucking block know.”
I glance between the two of them before quickly scrambling to my feet on the bed, placing a hand on either side of my mouth, and yelling at the top of my lungs, “I’M GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW!”
Juls and Joey both hoot and holler at me as I drop to my knees and fall back between them. And we don’t move from our spots for the rest of the night.
There’s laughing and talking more about the wedding, a few more text messages between Reese and myself, and a ton of discussion revolving around Juls’ pregnancy. It’s my last night in my loft, and it’s one of the best ones I’ve ever had.
With two of the most important people in my life.
35
Today, I marry my wedding hookup.
Not that I’m an expert on this sort of thing, but I’m pretty sure most people never see their flings again after sharing that one moment together. That’s the whole point of wedding sex, isn’t it? You’re watching two people vow to love each other for the rest of their lives while you wallow in your own single self-misery. Then you see an opportunity in the form of another hopefully-not-married wedding guest and proceed to get it on to help ease your loneliness. Or I suppose in my case, experience something you never have that your overly-knowledgeable best friend brags about. Either way, I’m certain in most cases of slutty wedding sex, no one expects to fall in love with the guy who romantically takes you against a bathroom sink at your ex-boyfriend’s wedding reception. It’s supposed to be a one-and-done deal. A shake of hands and saying how nice it was to make each other come before walking away. You’re not supposed to continually think about that person after you’ve gone your separate ways. You’re not supposed to lose sleep and briefly contemplate pursuing anything further with a man who you’ve been told is married. And you’re definitely not supposed to begin a casually-monogamous relationship with that same man, especially when you’re incapable of not falling in love with him.
But like I said, I’m not an expert at this sort of thing. And it’s a good thing, too; otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be standing in front of my mirror while my mother and fabulous wedding planner/best friend button me into my wedding gown. Without any difficulty, I might add.