bath, but I can feel my face heat at the memory of last night.
Abi grins big and wide, wolfishly devouring my reaction. “That look right there,” she says, pointing to my cheeks. “What’s that all about? You’re blushing, Vi, which means something happened. Spill it, girl!”
“Nothing. The flowers were just a really nice surprise, and he offered to help with a lot of the wedding prep that’s stressing me out.” Even to my own ears, it’s a weak explanation of the continually growing redness, which is creeping down to my chest now.
Abi narrows her eyes, searching mine. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”
My heart stutters and then stops. “I’m so sorry, Abi. You know I would never do anything to risk our friendship. We just got carried away and . . .”
My tumble of words dies out as she bursts out in laughter. “Fina-fucking-ly. Took you long enough. I figured you two would’ve boned that night after Club Red, but then you got pretty sloshed, so maybe my brother’s not a total Neanderthal, after all.”
My face blanks. “You’re . . . not mad? Isn’t that like some red-line girl-code thing? You shall not pass?” I intone.
Her quirked brow communicates quite easily that she thinks I’m a dolt. Droll and sarcastic, she summarizes, “Yeah, Vi. I totally hooked you up with my brother, the one I know you had a schoolgirl crush on for years . . . and the guy who quickly gets bored of vapid bank account chasers . . . for a fake wedding and at least a six-month relationship where you live together twenty-four seven . . . and thought you two would never bump uglies.”
She rolls her eyes. “What kind of moron do you think I am? More importantly, what took you so long? Is he still being an asshole to you? I’ll kill him if he is because he needs to get his head out of his ass and wake up to the awesomeness that is you staring him right in the face and figure out how to make you love him for real, forever, so we can actually be sisters.”
That’s a lot to process. Abi’s not mad. She assumed we’d have sex. She wants us to get together? For real?
Oh, my God. She is such a schemer!
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” I stammer.
Abi is having no such tongue-tied problems, though. “So, are we talking casual, no-strings sex, or are we talking ‘I love you, you’re my sun and moon’ sex? What step are we at so I can advise accordingly?”
“Casual?” I say it as a question even though it’s what Ross and I agreed on just hours ago. What step? She thinks there are steps from casual to sun-and-moon? “That’s all this is, Abs. There’s nothing serious between us, I mean, other than the fake marriage. This is still Ross and me.”
As if that’s explanation enough.
She smiles knowingly. “Yeah, but you’ve been living together for days now, have already weathered battles against both of your families, and are planning the event of the season in less than two weeks now. And you know what?” She pauses and I shrug. “You haven’t killed each other. Oh, wait, unless you killed him with sex. Did you fuck my brother to death, Violet Russo?” she accuses.
I can’t. I don’t know what to do with her. She’s acting like this is no big deal. And that’s putting ideas in my head. Ones I don’t know what to do with, like how his smoothies are just the right blend for my sweet tooth, how he stopped at the store and picked up an industrial-sized bottle of my favorite conditioner ‘just because’, and a dozen other little things. And last night, the bath and nerf war silliness that I didn’t even know I needed. And the way he knows how to hug me, or to kiss me, or . . .
“Oh, God, Abi. I’m falling for Ross Andrews,” I say, horror-stricken.
She smiles victoriously and does a little shimmy shake of happiness. “Okay, so now that my work there is done . . .” She reaches behind herself, literally patting herself on the back. “Let’s talk wedding preparation. Hit me.”
My mind is running in a thousand different directions. How in the fuck did this happen? How do I stop it? I cannot allow my heart to get tangled up in this mess, especially when we agreed hours ago to be cool and casual. We’re basically fuck-buddy