The coin flip, I had to smile. When we were kids, that’s the way we made any big decision. Like whether we should allow girls (aka, Olivia) in the tree fort, if we should play video games or ride bikes, what toppings we’d get on our pizzas. You know, the major life decisions.
A crease appeared on Bentley’s forehead. “But if it’s too much, don’t worry about it. I know that you’ve been through a lot lately and if it’s too much, I totally understand.”
“No, man. Of course. I’d be honored.”
“Great. Maisy will be happy. She talked to Liv tonight, so now our wedding party is locked down.”
“Olivia?”
“Yeah, she’s going to be the maid of honor.”
Great. So now I was living next door to Olivia, and in just a few months I’d be standing at the alter with her. What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 6
Olivia
“You don’t have to be ready to do something; you just have to be brave.”
~ Maggie Calhoun
Before I even opened my eyes, I could feel hot breath on my neck, and I knew I was not alone in my bed. As my heavy lids lifted, I felt the distinct sensation of a wet tongue licking me.
“Morning, Channing.” I lifted my shoulder to block his access to my bare neck.
Hearing his name was all the encouragement Channing Tatum, my one-year-old yellow Labrador retriever, needed. He hopped on top of me as I lay flat on my back in bed and coated my face in morning kisses.
I giggled and turned my head to the side, lifting my hand to intercept some of the slobbery affection.
“Stop,” I protested weakly. There were definitely worse ways in the world to wake up than kisses from Channing Tatum.
“Do you need to go potty?” I asked as I pushed up to a seated position.
Channing jumped onto the floor and ran to my bedroom door and back again. If I only had half the energy that my dog did in the morning, I’d be unstoppable. Unfortunately, I’d never been a morning person.
I’d read so many books that said a common trait successful people had was that they were up before sunrise and had a fixed morning routine. I was disciplined in most aspects of my life, but mornings were not my thing. It didn’t matter what I did, or what time I went to bed, I’d never been able to get up before the crack of dawn. I’d tried, so many times, to change my circadian rhythm, but it had never worked. I’d sleep through alarms no matter how many I set. But now, thankfully, I had a living, breathing alarm clock that didn’t have a snooze button.
I glanced at the clock and saw that it was a quarter till six in the morning. My eyes were blurry as I sat on the side of my bed and slid my feet into my slippers. I stood and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My bedhead was out of control and I had a crease in my left cheek.
I’d never been one of those women who rose from bed looking rested, refreshed, and could brag, “I woke up like this.” I always looked like I’d spent the night wrestling my sheets. Which would be fun if I had a partner. Unfortunately, I’d been solo for longer than I cared to think about. Last night’s date had ended in my driveway with me telling Tyler that I wasn’t interested in seeing him again.
It had nothing to do with the nose-picking. I’d just been bored. Well, not bored, exactly. My mind had been occupied. It had just been occupied with the wrong man. Poor Tyler hadn’t stood a chance of redeeming himself from his two-strike handicap.
All during dinner, I’d been obsessing over The Return of Holden Reed, which sounded like a title for a CW television series. I wondered if he was still in town. I wondered if I’d run into him. I wondered if he’d avoid me if I did.
As I puttered down the stairs to the back door behind a rambunctious Channing, regret settled low in my belly. I should’ve canceled my date last night. At the time, I’d felt so proud of myself for not giving into my Achilles’ heel, aka Holden Reed, and leaving without even trying to speak to him. But that pride was quickly replaced with sheer, unadulterated panic, even before Tyler had made it out of the parking lot of the community center. The first