“you’re the master party planner. I’m sure you’ll easily be able to put on the wedding of the century.”
The alarm on Cameron’s phone went off. “We need to head out now, honey, or we’ll be late to Jeff’s house.”
“Cameron’s friend is throwing us a small garden celebration this afternoon,” Brittany explained. “Why don’t you guys come with us? Jeff always has enough food and wine to feed an army.”
Zara kept her expression bland. Jeff was her least-favorite of Cameron’s friends. A smarmy financial analyst, he wore too much cologne and had wandering hands. “Thank you for the invitation,” she said, “but we really should get on the road back to Bar Harbor. You know how bad Sunday afternoon traffic can be if we leave too late.”
Zara almost laughed at the relief on Cameron’s face. Clearly, he wasn’t enjoying her being pulled into the middle of their engagement celebrations and wedding planning any more than she was.
When they stood, Brittany threw her arms around both Zara and Rory. “Thank you so much for coming to our little celebration. It wouldn’t have been nearly as wonderful without you both there—and I hope we see lots more of the two of you in the near future. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Z so blissfully happy.”
Zara couldn’t read Rory’s expression when Brittany finally let him move away to shake Cameron’s hand. In any case, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he thought about Brittany’s blissfully happy proclamation. Surely he would think it was simply down to the hot sex…
After waving Brittany and Cameron off, Zara collapsed onto the couch cushions, closing her eyes as exhaustion took over. “I need sugar. And fat. And butter. And carbohydrates. And lots more caffeine.” She held out her arm. “If you could hook me up to an IV drip with all of those things, that’d be great.”
“You eat too much junk food,” Rory admonished, albeit in a gentle voice. But then he offered, “I’ll see what I can rustle up from the diner down the street.”
If he brought her a kale and tofu salad, she was going to punch him. That was, if she could muster up the energy when it felt like things had just spiraled even more out of control. Last night, after spending time with Brittany and Cameron, Zara had ended up in bed with Rory. And then this morning, fifteen minutes with the happy couple was all it took for her to nearly sign on the dotted line to be their official wedding planner. If she wasn’t careful, Brittany would be scheduling Zara to work as her personal maid on her honeymoon in the Bahamas.
She must have dozed off in the hotel lobby, because the next thing she knew, she was waking up to the tantalizing smell of bacon and coffee. Though she was still sleep-deprived, her two favorite things went a long way to temporarily reviving her.
She opened one of the to-go boxes and shoved an entire piece of crispy bacon into her mouth. “You’re an angel.” Actually, given that she was also wolfing down a massive bite of a waffle, it came out much closer to murf an afuel.
Shaking his head at her food choices, Rory pulled the top off a container of oatmeal and didn’t even coat it with brown sugar before digging a spoon into it.
“No.” She had to stop eating long enough to make sure he understood precisely how she felt. “Oatmeal does not count as food.” She made a mental note to put it on their breakup list for Saturday. A junk-food fiend and a health nut could never make it as a couple long-term.
“You’re right about this,” he said as he shot a grim look at the gruel on his spoon, “but when Mom makes Irish oatmeal?” His face broke out in a rapturous smile. “It’s one of the best damn things you’ll ever eat. I’ll ask her to make it for you sometime.”
“Every meal I’ve had at your family’s café has been great.” Though Zara knew Rory’s mom ran the kitchen at Sullivan Café, she had never been on-site when Zara had eaten there. “What was it like growing up in a town where your family is such a big part of things?”
“It was great…unless we were getting in trouble. All the cops in town, the teachers, the other store owners, knew my parents. I honestly have no idea how many times we were hauled into the café with our tails between our