AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Great! Let’s eat. All this pasta is going to get cold!” Evan arranges heaps of Pasta Puttanesca onto two plates and pours more wine into our glasses. “Let’s go into the living room. It smells like tuna in here.”
I’m surprised at how casual he is about all this, as if a minute ago, he wasn’t half naked in my kitchen—the tension between us so thick you could cut it with a knife.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks me.
“Hmm? What?”
“You look so … pensive. What’s on your mind then?”
“The one hundred Burt’s Bees lip balms. Why did you send them to me, Evan?”
“I … already told you. Didn’t I?”
“Yes. But that’s not a present a friend gives,” I reply, feeling more and more frustrated by the minute.
“I’m confused. Are there rules to this? What kind of presents do friends give?”
“Not this…”
“Lip balms?” he asks.
“Never mind.”
Chapter Ten
Emmy
“You’ve gone completely insane; do you know that?” Jo tells me.
I put down the pair of shoes I’m holding and turn to her. “What’s that supposed to mean? How am I the insane one in this situation, and why does it sound like you’re on his side?”
Larisa shushes us from the other side of the room. “Honey, you need to relax. This is supposed to be fun, remember?”
I hold up my hands in surrender, as she examines what appears to be a scrap of lace.
“What’s in your hand, anyway? Is that the handkerchief you’re going to blow your nose in at the altar, or something?” I ask.
“It’s a veil sample.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just trying to get a sense of what I like. My designer wants me to bring her back some samples so she can create a dress for me based on my taste,” she says.
“Your designer? Gosh, when did our lives become this, you guys?”
Jo gives me a look. “What do you mean this? Shopping?”
“You know what I mean. When did our lives turn into—designers, weddings, dresses that cost more than a car … scratch that. More than a house!” I gasp, looking at the price tag of the nearest wedding gown, unable to believe my eyes. “This dress costs three hundred thousand dollars!”
“It’s a vintage Dior. It makes sense. Emmy, what has gotten into you?” Jo asks.
“I just…” my voice trails off as I grab a glass of champagne from a silver tray that was set out for us when we arrived at this high-class wedding dress shop. I sit down on one of the small, pink ottomans reserved for guests of the bride. It’s uncomfortable.
I feel like a giant sitting on a child’s chair.
“Emmy, honey … let’s talk more about this Evan business.” Larisa changes the subject.
“What can I say, you guys? I thought we were going to—”
“Be together?” Jo asks.
“Something like that. I mean, I thought we were at least gonna kiss. I thought I was making it pretty obvious that’s what I wanted. But, he turned around and walked out of the kitchen, pretending like he didn’t see anything,” I explain.
