This trip was a mistake. I should have stayed in Chicago.
I don't sleep at all, even though the guest house bed is plush and fitted with expensive Egyptian cotton sheets. I toss and turn all night long, and I wake up more tired than I was when I went to sleep.
Today, I was supposed to go to a dress fitting with my mother. I have no fucking idea why she wants me there. I've made sure to protest long enough, and now I'm just having brunch with her when she's done with the fitting.
The idea of my mother married doesn't bug me as much as Cassidy's engagement does. And just thinking about Adrian's hands touching her skin and that luscious body that should belong to me… it drives me insane.
I get ready, taking care of my own breakfast. The guest house has windows all over the front, and I can't help but sneak glances at the main house. But there's nothing to see; it looks like both Adrian and Cassidy are out today.
I have an insane desire to go inside the house, snoop around – maybe take a whiff of Cassidy's lingerie drawer. But I realize pretty soon I'm being obsessive and shake the thought off.
I drive to Newport, to the fancy place Mom picked to get brunch. When I round the corner, I see a pretty terrace with white and blue decorations. So not the place I want to be.
What I like even less is the huge table full of giggling women which I am about to join.
"Hello, Dom," my mother greets me with reserve and we exchange an awkward hug. But truth be told, she does look good – glowing almost. Guess the new guy is working out all right for her.
"Thought it would be just the two of us, Mother," I say with my mouth pressed in a thin line as a girl on my mother's side dissolves in laughter. I look at her with annoyance, taking in her small frame and strawberry blonde hair, along with an enormous pair of boobs.
I know this girl.
"Yeah, you know me," she says, giggling, like she just read my mind. I can't help but smile, encouraging her to go on with a hand gesture.
"It's Susie, jackass," she says good-naturedly, taking a sip of her mimosa. "God, nothing like alcohol in the morning."
"And what is your part in my mother's wedding preparations?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, unable to hide the smile on my face. I like this girl. She has spunk.
"Keeping Cassidy company," she says simply, and gives me a wicked smile. She might as well have said she knows all my dirty secrets, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I might blush.
My mother swoops in to save me, doing a round of introductions to the rest of the ladies at the table. I'm enveloped in hugs, kissed on the cheek, and gushed about by a billion relatives, most of whom I haven't seen in years. Only one is instantly recognizable. It's my cousin Brielle, who has grown from a geeky nerd into a relatively attractive woman.
We're not related by blood, but I wouldn't dream of touching her. One inappropriate relationship per lifetime, please.
"Yes, I am doing law too," Brielle drones on and I try to mute out her voice and nod at the same time. For such an attractive woman, she sure is boring as hell.
My eyes keep scanning the crowd, as if Cassidy will appear out of thin air. I wonder why she isn't here today.
We all order our food and I sit miserably amidst the gaggle of women who are all intent on engaging in a conversation with me. Finally, my eyes land on my saving grace.
Cassidy's rushing around the corner, her bun in perfect disarray. She's wearing a prim and proper floral dress that I want to tear off that perfect body right now, and a fucking headband.
"So sorry I'm late," she says as soon as she reaches us, setting down a huge scrapbook. "I had a meeting – hi, ladies!" She waves to everyone, exchanging pecks with my mother and Susie.
She sits down facing me and raises her eyes, reeling back in shock when she sees me sitting there. As the conversation moves on, I smirk at her, and she rolls her eyes in a dramatic motion. "You have something to say?" she asks defensively.
"You're wearing a headband," I point out matter-of-factly.
"Yes, stupid," she retorts, and it's like we're teenagers again. I'm already grinning, having missed our feisty banter. "Something wrong with headbands?"
"No, no," I say with a grin. "Perfect for your age – you're fifty next year, or is it twelve?"
She shoots daggers with her eyes as I laugh out loud, shaking my head. My heart swells with emotion when I see her crack a smile as well. She makes a face at me and starts talking to my mother, instead.