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“Three weeks off?” I said. “What are you going to do for all that time?”

He stared at me, looking dazed. “Slash?” I prodded when he didn’t answer. “What are you going to do?”

As the car began to move, he looked out the window. “Cara, I have no idea.”

Chapter Two

Lexi

“This is not surrender, Basia, it’s a compromise.” I scowled fiercely when I said it, as if my frown would make the statement truer.

It didn’t.

My best friend, Basia Kowalski, rolled her eyes and filled my wineglass a little fuller. I’d already downed half of the glass in one gulp. I needed to slow down or I’d face plant on my kitchen counter in the next ten minutes. Was it wrong I considered face planting an acceptable alternative to what I was about to do?

“Of course it’s a compromise, Lexi.” Basia slid onto the barstool next to me and frowned back at me. “Stop being so grumpy. We haven’t even started yet.”

We sat at the breakfast bar in my kitchen, staring at my laptop and a page full of wedding gowns. I’d set up the virtual viewing to placate my mother, who, if she’d had her way, would have already dragged me to thirty-five boutiques looking for the right wedding dress. Basia had agreed to be my wing woman for the virtual viewing, and had tried to make the situation as smooth as possible by adding wine, cheese and crackers to the agenda. It wouldn’t eliminate the pain, but I was glad to have her by my side. Regardless, I still wished I were anywhere else but here.

“I can’t believe I took a half a day off of work to do this.” I tried to dial back the crankiness, but it was hard. “I can’t believeyouagreed to take a half day off to do this with me. That’s true friendship.”

Basia took a sip of her wine. “It was the only time all three of us were available to do it. Your mom is wicked busy.”

My mom was involved in numerous charities and active on the Washington, DC social circuit. Wicked busy was probably an understatement. Still, I wasn’t sure why I’d agreed to this. In some odd way, I supposed the president had nudged me in the direction of getting the wedding planning underway. I wasn’t happy about it, but I reasoned that the sooner I made some progress, the faster the entire thing would be over.

Slash popped into the kitchen. He stole a piece of cheese from Basia’s spread and dropped a quick kiss on my head.

“Hello, Basia. Ciao,cara.”

“Hey, wait,” I said. “Where are you going?”

“To run some errands.”

That was clearly code forI’m not going to be here to get between you and your mother in regards to wedding planning. Just the same, I wished he’d take me with him. But since it wasn’thismother coming over, he was able to disappear.

Lucky.

After he left, Basia ran her fingers through her bob-length dark hair. “Lexi, while I’m proud of you for agreeing to look at some dresses, I still don’t see how you’re going to get out of an actual fitting once you pick one. You do know that, right?”

I blew out an unhappy breath. “Of course, I know.” I pulled my sweater tighter around my body, as if it might somehow protect me. “And you know what happened the last time I was at a wedding gown fitting. Yours! I don’t want a repeat of what happened there.”

I’d almost burned down the bridal store, sent the bridal assistant to the hospital, and ruined Basia’s first dress. None of it had been done on purpose, of course, but still, it didn’t bode well for me trying on my own wedding gown.

Basia giggled at the memory. Thank goodness she was able to look back at it and laugh. I hadn’t quite got there yet.

“Oh, God, no, we definitelydon’twant a repeat of my fitting.” She reached over and picked up a piece of cheddar from the plate and delicately nibbled on one corner. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure that part out later. You were clever to think of this compromise, and even smarter to talk your mom into it.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t. But here we are, so let’s make the best of it. You know, this is pretty sweet, living so close to you. I can pop in at any time to be a buffer between you and your mom.”

“I agree, that’s one plus to living in the same neighborhood.”

She lifted her wineglass, clinking against mine. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I took a drink and hoped it would help the butterflies in my stomach. It didn’t. Nothing short of a nuclear bomb would help.

My front doorbell chimed. I did a quick check on my phone app and confirmed it was my mother. She stood on my porch looking gorgeous in a green coat and matching hat, holding a bottle of red wine and a bouquet of colorful flowers. I crossed into the foyer and opened the door. Mom immediately stepped inside, gathered me into her arms and hugged me, smelling as pretty as she looked.