Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
There’s no way Mr. Hunt wouldn’t notice that, and knowing him, he’d take full advantage of it by cramming even more errands into my already packed schedule.
On the way here, I took a look at the email he sent me an hour ago. The subject line said it all: Your Very Busy Friday Schedule.
So far, I know I have to stop by his apartment before eleven a.m. to water his dying plants. I need to pick up two suits from there to drop off at the dry cleaner. He wants me to take a pair of his shoes in because the sole on the left one needs to be replaced. Since Mr. Hunt never does anything halfway, I’m sure the man who takes on that task for him will be fixing both soles, whether the right one needs it or not.
After that, I stopped reading the list because I didn’t spot one actual work-related task on it.
I wait while Lottie unlocks the door at the end of the corridor before she swings it open. “Welcome to my home sweet home.”
“Holy shit, Lottie.”
Her head falls back in laughter. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
I laugh, too. “A huge compliment. Your apartment is gorgeous.”
It’s an understatement, but this place is magazine worthy. It’s expansive, and from what I can see from where I’m standing, she has exquisite taste in interior design.
“Thank you,” she accepts my words with a smile. “I need a big glass of water. Do you want one?”
I wiggle the water bottle in my hand. “Your doorman made sure I was all set.”
“Make yourself at home.” She gestures toward an area where two large leather sofas are facing a breathtaking marble fireplace. “I’m going to get that water, and then I’ve got to change into something else.”
I’ve lost count of how many different outfits I’ve seen Lottie wearing since we met. Tonight, I’m recycling a look that she’s already seen. I’ve never been to a private champagne tasting before, so I swapped out the red dress I wore to work today for one of the little black dresses I packed for our trip to Paris. Paired with four inch high heels, I look smashing according to Lottie.
I plop down on one of the sofas and immediately notice the assortment of bridal magazines littering the large coffee table in front of me.
Before my sister got married, she’d drag me to the Emmel’s near our parents’ home so she could leaf through the bridal magazines that were part of the display set up near one of the checkout lanes in the store.
She never bothered to buy any of the magazines. Instead, she’d flip them around to show me the images of the dresses and ask what I thought of each. I was too young at the time to realize how important that decision was to her.
Even though I saw her eyes water with tears at the sight of a sleek, strapless fitted gown in a center spread in a magazine, she ended up wearing the same dress my mom wore when she married my dad.
It held a lot of sentimental value, but the smile on Tracey’s face during the wedding ceremony would have shone brighter if she had worn the dress she had dreamed of.
A noise behind me sends my gaze over my shoulder. I immediately spot Lottie wearing a cute denim jumpsuit. She has a glass of water in one hand and what looks like a picture frame in the other.
“I thought you might want to see what my fiancé looks like.”
I’ve wondered about the mysterious Randall since she told me she was getting married.
“I’d love to see.”
She hands me the polished silver frame before taking a seat beside me. “He’s the definition of cute.”
I stare at the image of Lottie and the man she’s set to marry in just a few short weeks. She told me he was five years older than her, but that’s not evident in the image. His hair is the same shade as hers, and his warm blue eyes are exactly as she described, right down to the faint lines that feather out from the corners of them when he smiles. A beard covers his jaw.
The picture must have been taken at a studio since the background appears to be a light shade of gray. They’re both dressed in white button-down shirts open at the collar.
“You’re a beautiful couple,” I say sincerely.
She nods. “I think so, too.”
I glance at her to find a single tear streaming down her cheek. “Are you okay, Lottie?”
“Emotional,” she spits that one word out.
I move closer to wrap an arm around her shoulder. “That’s to be expected. Your wedding day will be one of the most important days of your life.”
Her eyes widen as she stares at my face. “It will be the most important day of my life. I think that’s really hitting me now.”