I laugh. “Remember that when you’re invited to a wedding and you’ve got no babysitter.”
“Oh yeah.” She smiles. “I forgot I’m having a baby.”
“How do you forget you’re having a baby?”
“Baby brain. The other day I forgot how to sign my name. Just went stone blank. The clerk at the store thought I was some con-artist with a stolen credit card.”
Mia crams another muffin into her mouth, the cream frosting lingering on her lips. God, she’s such an evil woman.
“So, listen,” I say carefully. “The wedding’s in six weeks, and you aren’t due for ten. Would you like to be my Matron of Honor?”
There’s a loud scream, so high-pitched it almost bursts my eardrums. She stands up with a struggle, throwing her arms over me the exact moment Slater walks into the kitchen.
“Who won the lotto?” he asks, rinsing his mug in the sink and setting it under the coffee machine. Placing a pod inside, he presses the button then turns to face us leaning against the counter with his hands reversed and pressed against the edge of the cupboard for support. Mia’s still holding on to me. Her heavy breath against my cheek is really annoying me. She smells like muffins. Muffins I so desperately want to taste right now.
“I’m going to be Zoey’s Matron of Honor,” she squeals with delight.
“Ahh,” he voices. “Congratulations. So when do I get to meet the elusive fiancé?”
I’m quick to defend
my relationship, unsure why. Maybe because of our fight this morning. “Drew isn’t elusive. He’s simply super busy at the hospital.”
“Maybe you guys should double date,” Mia suggests.
“Double dating would require me to actually have a girlfriend.”
“Huh.” Mia exhales. “So, you’re not in a relationship?”
I snicker at her pathetic attempt. “Way to be subtle, Mia. Watch out, Slater, Mia has this obsessive need to play the perfect matchmaker with eligible contenders.”
Her elbow connects with my ribcage causing me to wince in pain.
“You wouldn’t be the first,” he tells us. “Besides, I have my eye on someone.”
His gaze lingers long enough for me to feel slightly uncomfortable. Shifting my head sideways with a smile, I ignore the heat burning my skin. What the hell was that? Something for you to walk away from because you’re getting married.
Insert witty comment right now.
“Lucky eye,” I joke. “Getting all the action but not you.”
Mia bursts out laughing. I’m completely mortified I’ve just said that. I don’t work well under pressure, and stupid comments like that are a strong indication I should carry duct tape and learn to keep my thoughts to myself.
Slater turns around removing his mug from the machine. When he turns back to face us, it’s not without a smirk. His playful stare purposely pierces through me adding to my already uncomfortable state.
“If I get my way, which I always do, it won’t be just my eye getting all the action, Zoey.”
Blame the British accent.
Always blame the accent.
With every strength in my weak body, I lock my jaw refusing to let it fall. Mia is equally quiet, and when Slater leaves the room casually walking away, we both continue to stand still staring at the wall.
“I’m not sure what to say.” Mia gulps.
“We say nothing. We’re committed women. Every now and then a man will come along and say something like that to test our commitment levels. This is nothing more than a test.”
“You’re right. This is a test. Like our finals.”