Find Me (Page 58)

Find Me (The Found Duet #2)(58)
Author: Laurelin Paige

Which meant he was only bringing it up to prove a point.

I felt sick. And pissed. And the only thing I knew to say that might shut him up was definitely not the right thing to say.

“I’m sure you do,” Chandler pressed. “You met me outside the—”

I sprang up from my chair, cutting him off. “Hey, everyone. Guess what.” I tugged at JC’s hand, bringing him up as well. “We have an announcement.”

He leaned in toward my ear. “Are you sure you want—”

“Yes,” I whispered back. I wasn’t sure, though. I did want to tell everyone, but I was only doing this to stick it to Chandler. It was the wrong reason, and I knew it. But I’d gone this far…

So, with a smile that was more confident than I was, I spilled the news. “JC and I are getting married.”

The room was stunned. Which was fair. An engagement was pretty out of the blue. As the silence stretched to four seconds—five seconds—the wisdom of blurting it out in the middle of dinner like this seemed more and more doubtful.

But then all at once, everyone burst into congratulations in various forms, all of it blurring together so that I couldn’t tell who was saying what. My eyes flitted around the room, trying to read the expressions of my siblings and Laynie. Each beamed back at me with wide eyes and smiles that seemed sincere enough.

I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, and despite the motives of my proclamation, the intense joy I’d felt when I’d said yes returned in a second wave. To hell with Chandler. I had JC, and he made me feel wonderful. Agreeing to spend my life with him was the most momentous thing I’d ever done. And, if the best part about being engaged was how happy it made me, the next best part was sharing that happiness with the people who loved me.

Ben stood and wrapped me in a bear hug. “Damn, girl. I guess there’s something to the theory that you keep them interested when you save the milk.”

“Uh, yeah, my no-sex plan sort of went to hell.”

“Really?” he asked with heavy sarcasm. “I thought for sure that skorts were the updated version of a chastity belt.” He beamed as I smacked his arm. “Congrats. You deserve something good.”

I waved him away, afraid my mascara would run if he said anything else. Then the server that Laynie had hired for the night came out from the kitchen with dessert, and the clamor of congratulations dulled into the sounds of utensils scraping against plates and spoons stirring inside coffee cups.

As things calmed, I braved a glance at Chandler. He hadn’t said a word since my announcement, and even now, his eyes were cast downward, his jaw tense, his shoulders slumped.

His reaction didn’t disrupt the waves of elation that continued to crash over me, but it did pull at me, like the undertow in the ocean. A smidgeon of guilt and regret curled around my emotions and threatened to sweep me away, and if I didn’t have JC to cling onto, it might have succeeded.

But I did have JC, and so I stayed standing in the bubbles of the surf.

Chapter Fourteen

After dinner, we shuffled back to the living room to linger over nightcaps and coffee. The tension I’d felt earlier had completely dissipated, primarily because Chandler had said very little since my announcement. Which only created new tension, a guilty kind of tension, that sat in my belly like remnants from a bad meal.

Fortunately, the rest of the dinner party seemed enthusiastic about my upcoming wedding, which made up for any negativity. When I’d returned my ring to its rightful hand, the women ooh’d and ah’d while Adam and Hudson got smug about the jewels they’d bought for their wives. I’d yet to get a read on Norma, though. She seemed to be cheerful enough but hadn’t said much, and it was her opinion that I cared about most.

Eric was the first to ask about the details. “Have you set a date yet?”

I exchanged glances with JC. We’d easily agreed on a time frame for our engagement¸ but we were well aware that others might have opinions about it.

“September thirtieth,” I said and readied myself for the assault.

It didn’t come in quite the way I’d expected nor from the people I’d expected.

“September thirtieth?” Mira’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “Jesus, are you trying to kill me? We’re barely going to have time to get a dress fitted. Do you even know what style you’re thinking? What about attendants? Is it going to be indoor or outdoor? You know what? Come by the boutique tomorrow. We have to start on this ASAP if we expect to pull this off.”

“I, uh, guess Mirabelle’s is handling the bride’s attire,” I laughed.