Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love #5) - Ali Parker Page 0,87
for coffees on Sundays. Otherwise, we’d both get fat because their recipes were so buttery and deliciously dangerous.
But today was a special occasion.
I stepped into the shop while the rest of the neighborhood still slept off their turkey comas. There was nobody in line so I moved up to the register and ordered our usuals, an Americano for Wes and a half sweet caramel latte for me. I decided not to get breakfast because truth be told I still felt a little full from dinner and all the wine last night.
The barista made my coffees and called goodbye after me as I left the shop. I was back home—it still felt so surreal and wonderful to refer to Wes’s townhouse as my home—within fifteen minutes of leaving. Before I went inside, I checked the black mailbox attached to the side of the house to the right of the front door. I found three envelopes inside. Two were banking envelopes for Wes, and the third was a wedding invitation. I pushed inside and left my shoes, purse, and jacket at the door. I set the banking mail down on the table where Wes kept his keys in a bowl but tucked the wedding invitation under my arm and made my way back up the stairs to the master bedroom, where I found Wes still peacefully sleeping the exact same way that I’d left him. His chest rose and fell with every deep, steady breath as he lay in the stripe of sunshine that shone through the crack in the curtains on the bedroom window.
I smiled, set the coffees and invitation down on his nightstand, and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed.
Wes stirred. His eyes opened slowly and he peered up at me. He smiled. “Morning, good lookin’.”
“Morning.” I picked up his Americano and handed it to him. “I went on a coffee run.”
Wes propped himself up on one elbow. “My angel.”
He lifted the blankets, shimmied himself up so he could sit against the wall of pillows against the headboard, and invited me to join him. I snuggled up beside him and he tucked the blankets around me. We sat all cuddled up together and sipped our coffees as the room continued to grow brighter with autumn sunshine.
“I had the perfect evening last night,” I said. “I knew it was going to go well but I never imagined it would go quite that well. My parents really like you. I can tell.”
“And I really like them. You never told me your dad was a comedic genius.”
I giggled. “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. He misses the mark sometimes and wastes a lot of one-liners on dad jokes, but for the most part, he’s pretty darn funny.”
“I don’t understand why society turned on dad jokes in the first place.”
“Apparently, people are elevating their humor standard.”
“I don’t believe that for one second. Scroll through the internet for five minutes. People are most definitely getting dumber, not smarter.”
I laughed. He wasn’t wrong.
“Oh,” I said, remembering the invitation on the nightstand. I leaned over to pick it up and handed it to him. “I checked the mail when I came in and this was there. Looks like a wedding invitation.”
He slipped his finger in the groove and tore the end of the envelope open. A shimmering gold cardstock fell out and he held it under the stream of sunlight to read the names written on the card. He grinned. “Well, I’ll be damned. Katie’s getting married.”
“Katie?”
“She’s the honeymoon coordinator at the resort I go to for my writing retreats.”
“The Virgin Islands hotel?”
“That’s the one,” he said. “Damn, they moved quickly.”
I peered over his shoulder. “Do you get a plus one?”
He hid the envelope from me. “Someone’s nosy.”
“What? I love weddings. And a tropical wedding in the Virgin Islands? Sign me up.” I tried to snatch it out of his hands but Wes pulled away. I pouted. “Come on. Let me see!”
Wes angled himself away from me so I couldn’t see the card, but he read aloud as he scanned through it. “The wedding is at the hotel. I’d say I’m surprised but not really. Katie lives and breathes for that place. Oh and look. I do get a plus one. Maybe I should bring Harriet. I’m sure she’d like—”
I whacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t be a smart ass, Wes.”
He snickered. “Is the honeymoon phase of our relationship already over? You’re