The Husband Checklist Page 6

  We laugh together for several minutes, before I get a tissue to wipe at the corners of my eyes.

  “Yup. I never brought another girl home after that. Who knows what else my mom would have come up with.”

  I snort, still shaking my head at the absurdity of his story. “I don’t blame you. Your mom has always had her own way of doing things.”

  “She really has.” The smile lingers on his face. “Your turn. Worst pickup line you’ve ever heard.”

  I roll my eyes at him, not even having to think about that one. “Easy. No wonder the sky is gray today, as all the blue is in your eyes.” I look up at him and flutter my eyelids dramatically until we both clutch our stomachs.

  “That’s the stupidest thing ever.” Carter’s gasping for air while I wipe away more tears.

  I nod. “I know.”

  I can’t even remember the last time I laughed this hard.

  “I mean, not only is it completely unoriginal, but your eyes are pretty obviously brown.” He squeezes my hand as more laughter rolls through him.

  The movement makes me stop in my tracks, my laughter quickly turning into quiet chuckles. In the midst of this fun, I forgot our hands were still connected, the contact suddenly feeling more intimate.

  Awareness spreads through me. We’re obviously comfortable together, holding hands and sitting closely, but how does this look to the people around us?

  “No one can be that blind or unoriginal.” He shakes his head, his gaze momentarily focused on our hands before he lifts it up to mine.

  I have to stop my mind from putting its own spin on things, wondering about things that aren’t there. We might look like a couple to those around us, but I have to keep focused on the truth. I promised myself years ago to never cross the line and want more from Carter again. We’re friends, and I know he’ll never see me any differently. I just have to ignore the sting that causes too.

  Chapter Eight

  Carter

  The lobby of the Bellagio Hotel buzzes with noise. There are people everywhere—families, business people, couples decked out to the nines, college kids, groups of friends, seniors—most of them poised to take pictures with their cameras or phones. Above all, they’re directed at the opulent ceiling. The wonder about the colorful ceiling sculpture made of glass-blown flowers is audible all around me.

  Only in Vegas can hotel-hopping be popular. But, most of the hotels are either plain stunning or so ridiculous they’re cool again.

  A quick glance at the clock confirms that Julia should be here any minute. Thankfully, she did okay for the rest of the flight, besides the landing, where she shrieked and nearly broke my hand. After getting situated at the hotel, we agreed to go for an early dinner before I meet up with my client for drinks.

  My gaze sweeps over the bank of elevators, just as she steps out of one.

  Oh for fuck’s sake. Not that dress.

  How on earth am I supposed to survive this evening when she’s wearing the red number that clings to all her curves like it was handmade for her? She’s so fucking beautiful. It ends an inch above her knees, with the barest hint of cleavage visible when I stand above her. Her black heels are shiny and click rhythmically on the marble floor, giving her an even more impressive entrance.

  She stops right in front of me, her hands brushing over the smooth fabric on her thighs. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

  Getting up from the bench, I let my eyes slowly wander up her body until I finally get to her face. She went above and beyond to get ready. Her makeup is bolder than usual but without being too much, her hair in soft curls around her face. I prefer the natural look on her, but she’s breathtaking like this.

  “Jules, you’re beautiful.”

  Her cheeks turn pink, and I briefly wonder if Nate ever complimented her. Since that douchebag is the last person I want to think about though, I push all thoughts of him aside, not wanting anything or anyone to ruin my time with her.

  “Thank you.” She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, meeting my gaze for only a moment. “Now, let’s go. I’m starving.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  The second the words are out, I regret them. So much.

  We shouldn’t cross that line of our friendship or all hell will break loose, not just with Julia but also with Ollie. And those two have always been my second family, and I wouldn’t want anything to get in the middle of that.

  She looks up at me expectantly. “So, where are we going?”

  Either she didn’t hear what I said, or she chooses to disregard it, so I do the same, holding out my arm for her. She wraps her hand around my bicep, and I try to ignore how right she feels on my arm, like she belongs there.

  We walk deeper into the hotel, the crowds thinning out marginally. “They have an Italian restaurant here that’s to die for. Quite possibly the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

  Her fingers tighten around my arm, her mouth morphing into a wide grin. From the looks of it, she’s about a minute away from bouncing in place. “You know Italian is my favorite, so please lead the way.”

  I chuckle at her excitement. She’s too cute for her own good. And of course, I know Italian is her favorite. It’s impossible to forget all the nights I spent at the Bradford house eating mountains of it, and the reason I made some last-minute phone calls to secure us a reservation.

  Since I’ve been here several times before, I have no trouble maneuvering us through the crowd to the restaurant where we get seated immediately.

  Once our waiter has taken our order and leaves us with the drinks the hostess ordered for us, I look at Julia across the small table that’s nestled into the corner of the restaurant.

  It’s a little secluded, almost intimate, and I immediately wonder if this was a mistake. The last thing I want to do is give her the wrong impression, or worse, make her uncomfortable.

  “I hope this table is okay.”

  She gazes at me over the floral centerpiece. “Of course. It’s perfect.”

  Tension I was unaware of releases in my body, and I tell myself to get it together. This busyness of work, especially with this last-minute trip, and balancing time with Julia in her quest has thrown me off more than I thought this week.

  I nod. “I’m sorry I have to leave right after dinner. Our client is very social, so whenever we have a business meeting with him, we usually get together for drinks the night before. He’s very peculiar about that.”

  She brushes her hand over the tablecloth in front of her, absentmindedly repeating the motion. “Don’t be silly. I tagged along on this trip last minute. You’re here for work, not to babysit me, so there’s really no need to worry. I’ll go watch the show you got me a ticket for, and then tomorrow I’ll explore the city during the day. That’s probably a lot safer, not to mention less crowded.”

  Since she doesn’t look upset, I nod.

  Not everyone understands when the business calls for weird hours, but this is Julia we’re talking about. She grew up with her dad and uncle building their insurance business from scratch. Their uncle took over the business since Ollie wasn’t interested in the insurance market. Instead, he teamed up with me to build our investment company. Oftentimes, that requires us to put in long hours, especially during the first few years when most of the foundation is constructed and giving it your all is most crucial.

  I give her a smile, truly appreciating her understanding. “Thanks, Jules. I’ll definitely be able to squeeze in some time for you tomorrow, I promise. My meeting won’t be until noon, so we can have breakfast together and then explore the strip after if you want to.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Is there anything specific you’d like to see?” I lean back in my chair, waiting for her answer.

  She shakes her head. “I don’t really know what’s out there to be honest. Since we seem to be smack in the middle of it all though, maybe just walking up and down the strip and sneak into some of the cool hotels to check them out? I saw some casin
o brochures in the room and more in the lobby too, so I’m sure we’ll have no problem staying busy.”

  “Very true. It’s hard to get bored in Vegas.”

  She takes a sip of her wine, her gaze momentarily averted while mine stays on her, taking in her soft features and those plump lips on the rim of her glass.

  Before I can take that thought any further and imagine that mouth around something else—my mind playing more and more tricks on me—I clear my throat and focus back on our conversation. “But you’ll go back to your room after the show, right?”

  Her long curls bounce as she nods. “I might go to the bar for a drink after the show, but that’s probably it.”

  I’m relieved to hear that, not wanting her to wander around the city by herself, especially not the way she’s dressed. It wouldn’t take a minute before someone tried to pick her up. “Good. I’m not sure how I would explain to your brother that you’re out by yourself having a crazy night. Especially since he doesn’t even know you’re here with me.”

  It still doesn’t sit well to withhold that little detail from my best friend, but I’m not sure the alternative is much better.

  The restaurant noise disappears around us for a moment when she leans in, exposing the top swell of her breasts. “He doesn’t need to know everything. It’s already enough that you worry and freak out over everything I do.”

  There’s a gleam in her eyes that makes my stomach uneasy.

  Thankfully, the waiter arrives with our food, and we drop the subject of the impending big-brother drama, at least for now. I’m sure it’ll come back eventually since situations like this tend to bite you in the ass, but I’m trying to stay optimistic and choose ignorance at this point.

  * * *

  A few hours later, I part ways with my client for the night, glad we only met a hotel over. I briskly walk back to the Bellagio, checking my phone to see if Julia’s messaged. I try calling her, but she doesn’t answer.

  A look at the time tells me her show ended about an hour ago, so she should be back in her hotel room. Even with a drink at the bar, she shouldn’t be out and about anymore.

  I try calling again but it keeps ringing until her voicemail kicks in.

  This time I wait for the beep. “Jules, where are you? You said you’d text me when you got back to your hotel room. Please let me know you’re okay, so I know you made it back in one piece. I’m on my way to the hotel. Call me.” I push the end button.

  I was hoping that leaving her a message would make me feel better, but the opposite is true. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, a strange mixture of concern and fear starting to build up in my body, the feeling of uneasiness strong enough for me to start pushing through the crowd as fast as I can.

  The sun set while I was inside, the sunset gradually morphing into twilight, leaving the sky a beautiful shade of pink. The bright lights of the casinos stand out more against the darkening backdrop, and getting around people turns out to be harder than I thought since a lot of them are already highly intoxicated or on their way there.

  I’m still clutching the phone in my hand when it vibrates, Julia’s name flashing on the screen. I’m so relieved, I almost drop it.

  “Jules. Where the hell are you?”

  For a few seconds, all I hear from the other side of the line is loud noise before she finally starts talking. “Carter? Are you there? Oh my gosh. Vegas is soooooo much fun.”

  And then the phone call drops.

  I stare at my phone screen in disbelief. What the fuck just happened?

  When I call her back, the voicemail kicks in right away.

  Shit.

  Our hotel comes into view, and I practically run inside. Since Julia was clearly not in her hotel room, I rush through the bars on the lower level, having more than just a few curious—and some annoyed—looks thrown my way.

  Just as I was afraid of, the search is fruitless. I’m off to the elevators to check her room anyway, even though I’m positive the chances are incredibly slim she’s there. The elevator ride takes forever, and I’m ready to rip my hair out when I finally make it to our floor.

  “Come on, Julia. Please open the damn door.” I pound on it over and over, still hoping she’ll magically appear.

  Two seconds later, I’m ready to punch a hole in the wall, knowing what the possibilities are of actually finding her in a city like this.

  My phone vibrates again, this time alerting me of a new text message.

  From Julia.

  Thank fuck.

  I’m not sure I still feel the same though when I read it, certain the little bit of color I had left on my face is now gone.

  Julia: Come meet me at the Wedding Chapels on the first floor. Wear your suit. Hurry up.

  Oh shit.

  Chapter Nine

  Julia

  Leaning back in one of the chairs, I check the clock on the wall. Again. I sent Carter the text about ten minutes ago, right before my phone died for good. It shouldn’t take him this long to get here, contrary to us, but we stopped several times for drinks and to look at the fun promenade shops that led us to the luxurious waiting room in front of the Wedding Chapels. It’s beautiful with elegant seating arrangements, creme-colored chairs, and intricate wall and ceiling patterns alongside lavish chandeliers.

  Who would have thought Vegas is so much fun? I mean, I’ve heard a lot of stories about this place, both good and bad, but it’s different to experience it yourself. I definitely should have come here sooner, because it’s been absolutely exhilarating so far.

  “Jules?” Carter’s voice carries across the expansive room before he comes in my line of vision, sprinting over to me.

  He stops in front of me a moment later, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

  “Took you long enough.” I lean forward to get a better look at his face, a laugh breaking from my chest when I see his frown. Teasing Carter is so much fun. Then I clap my hands together and yell, “Now we can get started.”

  “Can we finally do this, babe?” The tall figure that was slouched over one of the other chairs pushes himself up, his speech slurred. I think. It’s hard to fully think past my own buzz.

  “Yes.” I beam at him, until I take in the expression on his face. He looks different than before. Not as happy and smiley anymore. I thought we were having so much fun. Or maybe my alcohol levels have dropped. “Is everything okay?”

  “What?” His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Yeah. Sure, sure. I just really want to do this already.”

  “Jules.” Carter’s sharp tone snaps me out of my maybe-blissful conversation—I haven’t decided yet. “Can we talk for a moment, please?” He grabs my elbow and pulls me over to the side, away from the seating area. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “It’s wonderful. Marc and I are getting married.” I smile widely, the corners of my mouth slightly achy from the motion.

  His head flinches back before he rubs his forehead. “I’m afraid I already know the answer, but who’s Marc?”

  I point at the man we just walked away from. “Obviously him. We met at the show tonight. Neither one of us really enjoyed it, so we skipped it after a little while and went to the bar instead. We had a few drinks, talked, and decided to have some fun. Somehow, we ended up here.”

  Carter looks at me like I’m speaking Chinese, so I keep talking, “Marc just split up with his girlfriend and needed a little cheering up, just like me.”

  “So you guys thought that getting married would cheer up both of you? Please tell me you’re kidding.” He lifts a single eyebrow and cocks his head.

  “You don’t think it’s a great idea?” My smile falters a little, but I keep going. “It’s something new and exciting, and it seemed like we were meant to meet tonight. And in Las Vegas of all places. What are the odds?”

  He shoves his hand roughly through his hair. Usually, he does that when he’s frustrated.

  I
take a step closer, tripping over my own feet and halfway stumbling into him, holding on to his arm for dear life. “Carter? Are you okay? Did the meeting not go well?”

  He looks down to where my hands tightly clasp his forearm. “Why are you asking?”

  “You’re clearly upset about something.”

  He throws his head back and laughs, loudly, causing Marc to grunt behind us. When I turn around, he isn’t sitting like he was a few minutes ago, but instead, he’s lying down on one of the benches.

  Wait. Is he sleeping?

  I gasp just as Carter stops laughing.

  “Jules, you don’t think there’s anything else I could be upset about?” He points around the room before throwing his hands in the air. “How many drinks have you had?”

  I look at him, this conversation sobering me up more and more by the minute. Then I shrug. “Not too many. Just a few Long Island Iced Teas. Marc got me started on them since I’d never had one before. They’re really good.”

  He groans in response, but I’m having trouble understanding why.

  “Is something wrong with that drink?” I ask him.

  “Nothing wrong per se, but they’re very strong. And you”—he points his finger at me—“are not a heavy drinker.”

  “Nope, I’m not.” I giggle, enjoying this light buzz more than the heavier one I had when Marc and I left the bar earlier. The delicious dinner I had with Carter has probably helped soak up a lot of the alcohol too by now. I look around the room once more. The beautiful room that serves as a gateway to several chapels and is now adorned with a snoring man—random dude-slash-new friend-slash-almost husband? I bite my lip as my brain is busy firing up again, the fog slowly clearing in my head. “They were delicious, but maybe I should stay away from them in the future.”