that my guy doesn’t have any weird collections or fetishes.
Sebastian to Gracie
Some friend you are. But you’re right, you DO need all the luck. At least I know what Ms. Complicated looks like. YOUR guy could be super into face paint.
Gracie to Sebastian
With that kind of attitude, you’re never going to get an invitation to the wedding.
Sebastian to Gracie
Wedding? You move fast.
Gracie to Sebastian
Cinderella knew in one night.
Sebastian to Gracie
Cinderella also wore shoes made of glass.
Gracie to Sebastian
Good idea! I’ve got just the dress to pair them with.
Sebastian to Gracie
Are you nervous?
Gracie to Sebastian
About cutting up my feet? A little.
Sebastian to Gracie
Gracie.
Gracie to Sebastian
Heck yes, I’m nervous. I’ve been so worried about him not living up to my expectations that I’m only now starting to realize something far worse: What if I don’t live up to HIS?
Sebastian to Gracie
Impossible.
Sebastian to Gracie
… But in case he seems less than enthralled, you could always cook for him. I’ve heard you make a mean crab cake.
Gracie to Sebastian
Hilarious. I think I liked you better when we were enemies.
Sebastian to Gracie
Ah-ha! But you admit that you DO like me…
Twenty-Five
“Okay, I think the fact that Mystery Man signed it Yours means something,” Keva says, handing my phone back and rummaging in her makeup bag. “That’s the first time he’s signed it that way?”
“No, he always signs it Yours, but it’s usually sort of playful. Like Yours in something relevant to the conversation… ice cream, understanding, constipation—”
“I’m sure he’s never signed it yours in constipation,” a male voice interjects from across the room. “If he has, you should seriously reconsider this meeting.”
“You said if you were going to stay, you wouldn’t interrupt girl talk,” I tell Sebastian with a scowl from my kitchen table where Keva is putting finishing touches on my makeup for the gallery opening in an hour.
“No, you said I couldn’t interrupt girl talk. I never agreed,” Sebastian says with a grin.
“Remind me again what he’s doing here?” Keva asks, using the eyeliner to gesture over her shoulder at Sebastian.
“I brought her congratulatory flowers since I can’t go to her big night,” Sebastian says, pointing at the gorgeous assortment of pink blooms. “We’re friends now.”
“A status I’ll have to revoke if you keep eating my emergency stash of chocolate chips,” I tell him.
Keva taps her eyeliner on her palm. “Sebastian, you’re a dude. What do you think this guy meant with the Yours. That is some intimate shit, right?”
“Sure,” he says, taking a sip of water.
“I’m still iffy on this plan,” Keva says. “I’m all for bold moves, but if he’s a real weirdo, that could put a major damper on the evening. Don’t worry though, Grady agreed to keep an eye out tonight.”
“Oh, is that why Grady’s your plus one?” I tease gently.
“Hush, unless you want to leave this chair looking like an eighties workout instructor,” Keva replies. But she’s smiling a little, and it’s the glowing, secret smile of a woman about to spend the evening with a man she’s been into for a long time.
“I hope Mystery Man’s got a gap between his teeth,” Keva says. “I’ve got a lot riding on this.”
“You have a lot riding on it?” I ask incredulously. “What about me?”
“Fair enough. I meant financially I have a lot riding on this.”
I narrow my eyes, and she gives me a guilty grin. “There may or may not be a wager.”
“What?”
“Most popular theory so far is that he’s middle-aged and lonely, though there’s some debate on whether he’ll have fake hair or a comb-over.”
“A toupee could be nice,” Sebastian says.
I glare at him, then turn back to Keva.
“Who’s in on the wager?” I demand.
“Pretty much everyone,” Keva says with a grin. “It was my idea.” She bows. “But your sister, her husband. Robyn, May, Rachel, your brother, even Josh, though that little sweetie thinks your guy’s big secret is that he’s a vegan Navy SEAL.”
Sebastian snorts.
“All right, all right, all right,” I say, nodding thoughtfully. “I can be a good sport about this, but I want in on the wager.”
“Ooh, twist!” Keva says in delight. “Hold on, let me pull up the spreadsheet.”
“There’s a spreadsheet?” I lift up my hands. “Nope, that’s fine. Love it. Okay, so I already know who he is.”
Sebastian’s been idly inspecting the paintbrushes I’ve set in a cup on my counter to dry, but he looks up abruptly. “You do?”
“Yup,” I say confidently. “Well, no. But I know exactly what he looks like.”
“I’m ready. Shoot,” Keva says.
I give her a look. “You