They might have taken a lot from me and kicked my pride straight to the curb of our centuries-old and generational family home in the historical district of Charleston, but like hell they’re going to steal my love of donuts.
“Seriously, Becca.” I look at her, blinking away the burn in my eyes. That stupid invitation has made me face everything I’ve spent nine months avoiding. “What do I do? I didn’t even RSVP to this ridiculous farce, but my mom’s email last week said she expects to see me there.” With a roll of my eyes, I take on my mother’s tone and squish up my face. “‘Family supports family, Jillian.’ Please. Because they supported me?”
To say I’ve always been the black sheep of my family is a severe understatement. My father would probably have an aneurysm if he saw me sitting in my own kitchen, cut-off sweat shorts, unwashed hair flying all over the place from the knot at the top of my head, no makeup, a T-shirt that says DRINKS WELL WITH OTHERS in gold glitter. If he saw me stuffing my face with fat-inducing, cheap donuts from the corner gas station, he’d probably have a heart attack. My mother would no doubt comment on how the carbs are bad for my hips.
She takes a sip of her mimosa and arches one perfectly microbladed brunette brow. “You have three options, as far as I can see.”
I take a minuscule bite of the chocolate cream-filled donut before me, savoring the sugary sweet taste before I reach the cream center. “Those are?”
“One, ignore them because screw them all. I can’t believe your parents have approved of this so quickly and completely ignored you. Although that would give your parents a hernia and you’d never hear the end of it. Two, you show up, cause a scene and like the first option, you let Roman and Julianna have the satisfaction of knowing you’re still pissed about this.” She points her finger at me. “And you know Roman would get some sort of sick thrill over it.”
My lip curls at the thought. Roman getting any kind of thrill from me makes my stomach roll.
“And my third?”
“Get yourself a hot date, show up to the wedding with your head held high, and act like you don’t give a crap about any of them.”
“And who should my hot date be, exactly? Just swipe right on the apps you made me download and press my luck?”
To say I’ve had cold feet in getting involved with anyone new is an understatement. Plus, I’ve been crazy busy. Also, there’s the whole concept of meeting men online, getting to know each other via text and not even our voices that holds little appeal.
Besides, there’s only one guy I’m interested in, in that way. Unfortunately, he’s made it clear where my place is in his life.
The dreaded friend zone.
Becca finishes her mimosa and reaches for the pitcher containing more. With a wicked grin that makes me regret I asked, she replies, “Call Klaus.”
Speak of the devil.
2
Klaus
The barbell I’m holding slams to the ground, shaking the bar from the hundreds of pounds of weight I’ve deadlifted. Sweat makes my tank cling to my chest.
Shoving my hands to my hips, breathless, I glare at my trainer across from me. “We done now?”
Crank Matthews rolls his black eyes and grins, showing off one gold tooth at the side. “You’re a pussy.”
“Screw you.”
I know damn well that lift was my personal best. I’ve been working on my strength all off-season and I’m improving. Not quite the best yet, but I’ll get there even if I die trying.
“Nice lift, man.” Sebastian Hendrix, friend and fellow teammate for the Carolina Ice Kings hockey team, holds out his gloved fist. We don’t usually workout together and he’s rarely at the team’s facility this early.
I bump his fist. “Thanks. Don’t usually see you here.”
“Gigi’s having designers come today to help her redo our living areas. Since that’s her domain and she’s changed her mind thirty times already I figure it’s safer if I’m here.”
“Giving up the ghost?”
“Yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. His hair, usually resting at his shoulders in typical hockey player waves, has been cut, and the beard he sports all season is absent. “Think it was starting to bug Gigi. She insists she doesn’t want to move. Just wants to make it ours.”