Part-Time Lover (Part-Time Lover #1)(36)
20
Christian
“I can’t believe I lost the bet.”
Griffin and I walk along the river at the end of the next day, the afternoon sun casting sparks of light along the water.
“Did we have a bet?”
“Yes,” he says indignantly. “How could you forget?”
“What was it?” I bite into the egg crepe that I picked up at my favorite crepe dealer, wracking my brain to figure out what we wagered on.
“It was ages ago. But I bet a pint you’d be single until the end of time.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Sounds like some stupid shit we said at the pub, mate.”
“That sounds like everything we say at the pub.”
“True.”
“Still, I’m kicking myself for losing the bet. It’s making me laugh—the idea of you being married.”
“I was married before. You’re aware of that?”
“I know, but you’re not now.”
“So is half the population of the once-married people. Half of marriages end.”
“I’m aware, but the amusement level on this is still quite high,” he says with a smirk, as a twilight boat tour cruises by, kicking up a spray of water not far from us.
“So, me getting married makes you laugh. Thanks.”
He waves a hand. “No. It’s the bonkers idea that this will somehow be all business for you.”
“Business and pleasure,” I add, taking another bite.
“Need I remind you of the time you got involved with the client who wanted to enlist you as her boy toy and claimed she was knocked up, practically chasing you back to the homeland? At which point you swore off entanglements of that sort?”
“She was not pregnant,” I add.
“She definitely was not, but back then you said not to mix business with pleasure.”
“Elise isn’t a client. This isn’t exactly mixing the two. It’s uniting the two for mutual goals,” I say, explaining as clearly as I can how the deal with Elise is vastly different.
“That’s hilarious, mate. How you say that as if you believe it.”
I stop in my tracks and fix him with a serious stare. “I do believe it.”
“Fine, fine. Keep telling yourself that. Just do me one favor?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t crush her heart.”
“I don’t plan on it, but I didn’t realize you cared so deeply about her.”
“Of course I care. Your girl is friends with mine. If you break Elise’s heart, Joy will kill you, and then my woman will be in jail for murder.”
“And you’ve never had a thing for conjugal visits behind bars?”
“Exactly. Nor do I want Joy going to prison for strangling you. All you have to do is be a gentleman and don’t hurt Elise.”
“It warms my heart that your consideration is for me and for Elise, rather than whether you can dip your wick from behind bars or not.”
“I think of everyone.”
“Listen, it’s going to be fine. I know Elise,” I say, since the one thing I’m sure of is that she’s even less of a fan of forevers than I am. “She has walls like I’ve never seen before. You think I have guardrails? I have nothing compared to her, and there’s no sledgehammer on heaven or on earth that will knock down her walls.”
“Good—keep it that way. You’re all better off as is.”
I hold up my free hand in surrender as I dive into another hunk of the crepe. “Look, if anyone’s heart is going to be broken, it will be mine.”
Griffin laughs. “Somehow, I don’t think that can happen.”
As I make my way home to check how Erik is doing, I hope Griffin’s right. I can’t deny there’s a part of me that’s the slightest bit nervous, and a little bit hopeful too, when I think about talking to Elise this evening.
That’s when we’ll finalize the plans for our wedding.
Our wedding.
21
Elise
Two and a half years ago . . .
Stop and Smell the Days blog
May 15th: One fine iris and lavender afternoon that I’ll always remember
My lovelies . . .
We don’t wear perfume for men, do we? Not us scentsual women. We wear it because we are inexorably drawn to it. It is the signature of a woman. It’s an invisible allure she leaves behind, a note held long and lasting that can turn heads and leave men wondering who she is, and what her story is.
And you’ve chosen that “note” for my big day.
I’d dreamed of this day for years.
Don’t laugh. I’m like any girl in this regard. I’ve dreamed of white and flowers and sunshine. I imagined the warmth beating down on my bare arms and the fresh, clean smell of a garden that I walked through to meet my groom.
I was the girl who grew up in the city, surrounded by steel and concrete. That’s why flowers whispered to me from Central Park, inviting me to play. Flowers became the antidote to my overwhelming, gritty city life. I went to the park and climbed the statues and pretended to carry a bouquet of violets and tulips across a field on my wedding day.