Page 32 of All This Time (Blossom Peak #1)

Laney

Party Planning and Asking for What I Need

“When is the Wicked Witch of the West supposed to get here?”

Rolling my eyes, I check my phone on the table where we’re seated in Blossom Brews. “She’s only a few minutes late.”

“Good to know she doesn’t value your time. I mean, it’s not like you’re trying to run a business or anything.” Dilynne purses her lips, clearly annoyed. “Maybe a house fell on top of her on her way here.”

“You know, you don’t have to stick around. I’m pretty sure you’re the one who sat down on your own accord.”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to check on my best friend when I saw her across the restaurant.” Dilynne plants her hands on her hips. “If you hadn’t canceled our dinner date tonight, then I wouldn’t have even bothered to stop by. You’d have gotten a quick wave and then I’d be on my way.”

“I’m sorry, but this is the only night I have free this week, and we’ve yet to make any concrete decisions regarding the party. It has to get done tonight.”

“Yeah, you’ve been too busy letting Fletcher drag you into a dark hallway and have his way with you to plan a party, huh?” she whispers, and I’m very grateful she had the decency to do that.

After my phone call with Hazel on Sunday, I sauntered next door and filled in my best friend about what happened the night before while she was getting ready for her car show.

And when I told her that I was considering propositioning Fletcher for a physical arrangement, she was more than supportive, even though I was still concerned about my lingering feelings.

Dilynne’s advice was to focus on the physical feelings during the act and avoid kissing.

I’m still not sure I’m capable of that, but I’m damn sure going to try because I owe it to my vagina. She’s been neglected for far too long.

“Oh, look who’s here…” Dilynne turns toward the front door of the restaurant as Tori waltzes in, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Hi, Laney.” Her voice is cheerful as she greets me. But when she turns to Dilynne, her smile falls, her eyes narrow, and one of her brows lifts. “Dilynne.”

“Triple W,” Dilynne fires back.

Tori’s brows draw together. “What?”

“Dilynne was just leaving,” I say as Tori’s phone starts to ring.

She glances at the screen and sighs. “Ugh. Excuse me, I have to take this. Order me an iced tea, will you?” she asks. But as she walks away, she answers the phone, “Hey, baby.”

Dilynne tilts her head to the side. “That was weird.”

“What?”

“She seemed annoyed when she saw who was calling, but judging by how she answered, it was Elliot.”

I process what she’s saying. “Oh, uh…maybe she’s talking to someone else?”

“Who else would she call ‘baby’ then?”

“A friend?” I say, growing more uneasy.

“One, I thought she didn’t have any friends. And two, do you call your friends ‘baby’?”

My shoulders fall as I suggest, “Maybe that’s not what she said. Maybe we heard wrong.”

Dilynne shakes her head, her brows still furrowed. “Nope. I’m pretty sure I heard her correctly.”

As Tori approaches, I say quietly, “Look, I’m sure it’s nothing. Now scram if you don’t want to be around her anymore.”

Dilynne glares at me. “I’m beginning to resent the fact that you agreed to this.” She turns and walks right past Tori, the two of them glaring at each other in passing.

When Tori sees me again, though, her smile returns as she slides into the other side of the booth. “Sorry, work has just been insane.”

“I bet you’re looking forward to the honeymoon, huh?”

Tori nods. “You have no idea.”

When the waiter stops by our table, we place our order and then get down to business.

“Well, let me catch you up to speed on everything,” I say, revisiting everything that Fletcher and I have taken care of so far.

“Other than the favors and cake, I plan on getting my dress next week. There’s a store in Charlotte that has a great selection and a tailor on-site if I need any adjustments.

The flowers are confirmed for delivery on Saturday morning, the caterer has confirmed with the winery and will arrive an hour before the ceremony so the food is ready for the reception, and the photographer just needs you or Elliot to pay the remaining part of your deposit. ”

Tori sighs. “I really appreciate you, Laney. I hope you know that.”

“Of course,” I say, even though part of me is definitely ready for this obligation of mine to be over.

I’ve already mentally prepared a speech to politely decline if someone else asks me to be their maid of honor.

After this weekend, it’s become abundantly clear that I haven’t been putting myself first, and I’m determined to change that.

“Any last-minute requests for the party this Saturday?” I say, reaching for my water. “I know you and Elliot said you didn’t care very much, but…”

Tori’s eyes light up. “Oh, we should have an ice luge that you do shots out of! There was one at a frat party I went to in college, and it was a huge hit!”

Where on earth am I going to order one of those?

“I’ll, uh, see what I can do.”

“Perfect.” Her phone rings again, but before she picks it up, I see the name flash across the screen. “Speaking of the groom,” she says, rolling her eyes before answering, “Hey, baby.”

See? She called Elliot ‘baby.’ Dilynne must have misheard her earlier.

“Oh, I’m at lunch with Laney. We’re talking wedding details.” A moment of silence while Elliot speaks on the other end of the call. “Elliot says hello.”

“Hey,” I reply back.

Tori laughs at something he said. “Well, I told her we should have an ice luge.” She nods. “Elliot agrees it’s a great idea.”

I give her a thumbs up. “I’ve added it to the list.”

After a few more minutes of sitting there, waiting for her to end the call, my phone chimes with a notification from my glucose app. Shit, I need to eat.

As if I summoned him, the waiter appears and delivers our food, but my phone chimes again, this time with a text.

Fletcher: You’d better be reaching for food right now.

Me: Your supervision is unnecessary.

Fletcher: Think of it as taking care of you, not supervising.

Me: I told you, I can take care of myself.

Fletcher: If that were true, why did you agree to let me make you come again?

His response makes a shiver run down my spine and my entire body grow hot. I glance up to see Tori still on the phone, so I continue to text.

Me: I could retract my verbal consent, you know.

Fletcher: But that’s not what you want.

Damn him. He’s right. In fact, all I’ve thought about today is his comment about knowing how flexible I am is giving him ideas for when he touches me again.

I snap a picture of my burger and fries instead.

Me: There. Happy? This burger is about to be consumed.

Fletcher: Good girl. I can’t wait to reward you later.

Heat builds between my legs, but before I can respond, Tori ends her phone call.

“Elliot is working on his case right now, but he made us dinner reservations at this restaurant that I’ve been dying to try.” She reaches for a fry on her plate and pops it into her mouth.

“How sweet.”

She sighs. “He really is. He’s always trying to make me happy, always asking what I need or want, always taking care of me in a way I didn’t realize I wanted. I mean, a girl can’t really ask for much more, can she?”

“No, she can’t,” I say. But even as the words leave my lips I can’t help but wonder—will I ever find that too?

***

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.” Gesturing to the pizza boxes on my kitchen counter that are half empty now, I wipe my mouth with my napkin and then toss it onto my paper plate.

“What? Bring food?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you not believe in dinner or something? Is that a new belief of yours you’ve developed since high school?

” Fletcher grabs our plates and napkins, taking them to the trashcan.

When he turns back around and leans against the kitchen counter facing my dining room table, he crosses his arms over his chest.

I mirror his position, leaning back in my chair. “Is only responding with sarcasm a thing that you’ve developed since high school?”

Fletcher’s chest bounces as he silently laughs. “It was pizza, Laney. I was starving, and I can’t think on an empty stomach. Sorry I was concerned about yours as well.”

I roll my eyes, but inside my mind is at war.

When Fletcher arrived tonight, I had this fantasy of what would happen.

I would open the door, he’d take one look at me, and then pin me up against the wall, slamming his mouth to mine. He’d make me come on his hand again, and then on his tongue. And maybe, depending on how riled up I was, I’d let him take me to bed.

But that didn’t happen. Not even close.

Instead, I opened the door to find Fletcher freshly showered, holding two pizza boxes, and a single serving of the red velvet cake from Bites & Bliss.

And he didn’t bring just any pizza.

He brought my favorite: chicken alfredo with mushrooms and spinach, no onions.

Now I’m confused because two people in a friends-with-benefits situation shouldn’t do things like that for each other, right?

“So, are you ready to plan this party?” he asks, bringing me back to the present.

“Um, yeah.” Standing from my chair, I reach for my notepad on the counter, catching a whiff of his clean, freshly showered scent as I do. “Just so you know, Tori requested an ice luge at lunch today.”

Fletcher huffs out a laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah. Apparently, they had one at a frat party she attended in college, and it was amazing,” I say, attempting to impersonate her.

Fletcher shrugs. “I found them to be too fucking cold, honestly. My tongue got stuck to it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, but I told her that I would see what I can do.”

Fletcher clears his throat. “Do you regret not going? To college, I mean.”

His question makes my head snap to meet his eyes, and my heart starts pounding. The last thing I expected him to want to talk about was this. “Sometimes.”

He nods. “Have you ever thought of going back?”

“I actually got my degree.”