Page 22 of Nothing to the Wedding

“Unfortunately, all my head space for dresses went on making sure they get Jane’s right, Casanova.You know, the dress she’s never seen let alone worn.Probably the biggest, most important, decision of Jane’s life so far.”

“And it’s in your and Toria’s hands.Big gamble.”

“Worth it if we get it right.”

“That’s what Knox says.”

The heaviness of his eyes reminded her of the hour.

Rolling onto her side, she propped the phone up on the vacant pillow by hers.“I’m going to close my eyes now,” she said.He’d never ring off first, not that night.The only way to get him to rest was to do it herself.“Want to watch me sleep for a while?”

“You know I do.”

“Perv,” she played.“You’re a voyeur.”

“You’re a provocateur.”

“Sex pest.”

“Love of my life.”

The sincerity of that truth lightened her every atom.Oh, he always won when it came to saying the right thing at the right moment.

“It’s rude to call people names, Casanova.”

“You started it.

“And I hope it never ends,” she said, opening her eyes just for a blink long enough to see his one last time.“I love you, Scroogey.”

“I love you too, Lola.Sleep.”

And in the morning, she’d call again, or he would.They may spend time apart, but they were never without each other.He was her everything.Always.

SIX

IF THERE WAS one person in the world who wouldn’t expect her to come a-knockin,’ it had to be the guy who lived on the other side of the apartment door.

Security loitered over her shoulder, doing their thing, being vigilant.Good job.

Now back in LA, Astrid had offered to do the task for her, but no, she was no coward.If Roxie had to knock, knock, knock all day…

Unless he’d gone out.People did that.She was out, if randoms came knocking on her door—okay, so that wasn’t exactly possible these days—

When the door popped from the frame, her posture and expression changed, starlight on.

“Good afternoon, Mr.Crosby… Hmm…” This was no dazzling professional.Weren’t reporters supposed to be switched on and ready at all times?Always prepared for the story?She could be a story, right there on his doorstep, and he definitely wasn’t ready.“Do you know it’s afternoon?”His hair stuck out fifty different ways, his eyes were heavy, skin dull.“Are you ill?”

“I was out late, I—” And then he really took things in.“Why are you—what are you doing here, Miss Kyst?”

Oh, formal, why was he going with that?“You’re not going to invite me in?”

In his defense, she rarely invited him in when he came a-knockin’ for her.

“I don’t have a skyscraper penthouse.”

She leaned in.“Neither did I.Do we need a history lesson out here in the hallway?I’m from Regular Land too.”

Home was home, even if it wasn’t pristine.Jane was the reason their Chicago pad was spotless.She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken initiative herself.Sure, she did chores, that Jane assigned.On her own initiative, she’d only get it wrong anyway.