Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
“Yes. Put that out of your mind.” He pulled a face. “These are ghastly.”
“Aww, I like them.” It was such a relief to be talking to him without the ghost of our fight in the way. I’d dreaded the wedding, worrying that once it was over, we might very likely be. I was so happy, I could cry, but I didn’t because my eyeliner was almost perfectly symmetrical for the first time in my life.
As the evening wore on and the party kept gaining momentum, I met more of Emma and Michael’s friends, and some of Neil’s who hadn’t been able to attend his birthday party. I chatted with his sisters-in-law and caught them up on the engagement and the new house. I did not destroy Valerie with hate fire from my eyes when she asked Neil for a dance; it would have been weird if the bride’s parents didn’t.
At around nine, the band packed up and made way for a DJ, and Emma had changed to a cocktail length ivory bandage dress that was perfect for slinky dance moves. Neil was ensconced in manful chatter with guys his own age, whom I assumed were his friends.
“Good evening, Ms. Scaife.”
I turned to see Ian, tuxedo jacket off, black bow tie dangling undone around his neck. A lop-sided smile graced his angular face. I don’t think the title “silver fox” could have been more apt for him; his hair was silver, and his face was a bit fox-like, but with larger, kinder eyes.
“Hey, Ian!” I patted the seat beside me. “Where’s Gena?”
“You’re good with names. I’m impressed.” He had the most fun Scottish accent. He sat beside me and stretched one long leg out in front of him, slouching against the hardback seat. “Sadly, Gena’s dear auntie Judith passed away, and she had to fly to Chicago for the funeral.”
“And you didn’t go?” It seemed like a shitty thing, to let your wife go to a funeral for a departed loved one and not go with her.
He shrugged. “She’d rather travel alone on this one. Her family… Let’s just say I don’t crave togetherness, and the feeling is mutual.”
My gaze strayed to Valerie at the next table. I couldn’t help it. She sat with Rudy, both of them laughing and sipping their drinks. I turned back and forced a bright smile. “Oh, I think I understand.”
He tilted his head forward a bit, to indicate Valerie’s direction. “I’m sure you do.”
That seemed like a conversation ender, but to my surprise, he didn’t excuse himself. I had to think of something to say. “So, you went to school with Neil. Any scandalous stories you could tell me?”
Ian’s eyes sparkled at the chance to tattle on his friend. “I assume he’s already told you about the unofficial university kink club? And stealing the pro-chancellor’s son’s car and getting it stuck in a very narrow hallway?”
“The former, yes, the latter, no,” I laughed, leaning forward for every juicy detail. “Tell me.”
He mimicked my posture, creating a tableau of very obvious conspiracy. “This kid, he was the definition of a wanker. The kind of guy who would act like he had your back and then he’d throw you under a fucking bus if he got the chance. And he made such a huge deal about his father being in administration. We were meant to do a group study project, one of those horrible things nobody likes to do, and he fucked us over. You don’t need the details of that to appreciate the story.
“So Neil gets this brilliant idea to push the twat’s car through these big double doors in the maintenance department and roll it down the center hall of this building. Now, this wasn’t the most modern building. and Neil hadn’t taken into account that while the hallway looks big enough to fit this mini down the center, it’s not the same width all the way down. We get the damn thing about halfway, and suddenly it’s stuck. It’s just not going to budge a fucking inch.”
I was pretty sure my eyebrows were in my hairline as I listened to the story. I would never, in my entire life, have guessed that Neil had been the kind of college kid who’d done pranks. Let alone poorly thought out pranks that ended in disaster.
I was impressed, too, by Ian’s colorful vocabulary. Something about the way he cursed suggested it was an art born of dedication, rather than a hobby on his part. It was hypnotic, the way profanity rolled effortlessly from his mouth. I swore a lot. Neil swore. Holli was a fountain of obscenities. But this guy was a pro.
“So, Neil and I climb over the roof of the car, denting the living Christ out of it all the way, and we try to push it back the way we came. But it’s really lodged in there, and it won’t move. So he says—”