with sarcasm. “Marnie’s big brother, Carter, to that sweet little Southern cookie of his.” She rescued the bottle from Reese’s arm, as if desperate for a drink. “What took you so long?” Gina said with a faint scowl. “And how can people be so stupid as to get married at our age?”
Reese blinked, stunned into silence.
Cassie, her eyes far too intelligent and serious, wrinkled her nose. “You burned the popcorn.”
Or maybe the scorched scent was coming from Reese’s brain as she furiously scrambled for another approach to share her plans. Because how was she supposed to deliver her news now that Gina had declared the idea of marriage at their age ridiculous? Gina opened the champagne and refilled their glasses as Reese collapsed onto the chair, setting the bowl on the table surrounded by her friends.
“So many gorgeous men,” Gina said, eyes on the male runners preparing for practice. A collection of long, lean legs stretched...muscles and sinew rippling, tanned skin gleaming in the late-afternoon sun. “So many reasons to shag them and then forget about them.”
Which, even coming from Gina was a bit too much.
Reese narrowed her eyes at Gina. “What has gotten into you tonight?”
“Nothing.” Gina slumped deeper into her chair.
“Admit it, Gina,” Marnie said to the brunette. “The reason you chose to room with us is because Reese’s house has a front row view of the athletic field.”
“Too right. I love our nightly bitch sessions on the porch.” Gina popped a kernel into her mouth, making a face. “Charred popcorn and Dom Pérignon,” she said. “I can’t wait to see what kind of wedding you’ll throw one day, Reese.”
Reese’s heart twisted tight. Did a stand up quickie in front of the justice of the peace count? Probably not.
But Gina, lovely cynical Gina, only made it worse when she said, “And since you’re the only Park Avenue Princess among us—and I for one never plan to tie myself to just one man—I’m going to have to get my wedding fix through you. So it’d better be fab.”
Reese coughed on her champagne. “The ceremony isn’t important, only the man. I’ll be happy with a simple wedding.”
The disbelieving laughs from her friends weren’t encouraging. Did they really think she was so shallow?
“Please. Most students live in a dorm or an apartment. Your parents bought a beautiful house for you on campus,” Gina said.
“And provided a maid service,” Cassie said.
“Exactly,” Gina said. “So you know they’ll throw a wedding that will outdo the Royal Family.”
“Honey, you might be obsessed with Mason now,” Marnie added, her Southern roots drawing out the last word. “But you know you’ll marry some high-powered Wall Street figure your Mom and Dad approve—”
“No,” Reese said, so firmly the three women looked at her in surprise.
She waited a moment before going on, hoping to emphasize her point. The point being that her upbringing was irrelevant, despite what her friends said.
“When I say I do, it will be for love.” Reese forced herself to rein in the intensity of her voice. “And it will be forever,” she said, fingering the dog tags hidden beneath her blouse.
Mason had placed them around her neck this morning, telling her to think of him until they met up again at the city clerk’s office. And the plain chain that bore the metal with Mason’s name was more precious to her than any five-carat diamond engagement ring. Or even the Tiffany emerald necklace her parents had given her on her birthday.
Her parents.
Reese’s fingers clamped around the dog tags. “When I get married,” she went on, “money and status won’t be a consideration.”
Gina hiked a skeptical brow. “Have you told your mom and dad this?”
“I’m nineteen years old,” Reese said, abandoning her plans of sharing her secret. “I don’t need permission to marry.” Pushing aside her worries, she raised her glass and changed the subject again. “To our last night as roomies.”
Faces instantly gloomy, they lifted their drinks in response, and affection pinched her chest.
“You know I love you guys, right?” Reese met their gazes. She knew they’d forgive her for keeping her secret until she was officially Mrs. Mason Hicks. “So this isn’t the end of the Awesome Foursome,” she said, too full of hope not to smile. “This is just the beginning.”
ONE
Ten Years Later
Bellington Estate, the Hamptons
Reese stood on the small platform in the elegant sitting room furnished in eighteenth-century antiques, smoothing her hands down the satin. The wedding gown fit her waist just right, hugging her body to her hips before flaring in a dreamy swirl of tulle that floated to the floor, one hundred yards total. She had only one issue with the dress, and, unfortunately, the problem was getting bigger. Or technically, smaller. With a frown, she reached into her strapless bodice and adjusted her right breast.
“Don’t bother.” Amber met her gaze in the full-length mirror, her words muffled by the pins in her mouth, her hands fingering the bodice at the seam. “We need cream puffs.”
With a sigh, Reese dropped her hand to her side, staring at her reflection. Proof positive that God was indeed male. Because there could be no justice in a world that declared a woman must lose weight in her boobs first.
“Is that the best my seamstress, bridesmaid and future sister-in-law can come up with?” She sent Amber a dry look. “Your breasts are shrinking so bring on the cream puffs?”
The redhead’s face flushed with pleasure. “Your brother and I aren’t engaged.”
“Yet,” Reese said with a smile.
Amber removed the pins from her mouth. “We’re here to talk about your wedding,” she said. “And at this rate, you won’t have anything left to fill out your dress. Do you want the bodice looking like the empty bucket of a bulldozer as you make your way up the aisle?”
Her friend stabbed a pin through the fabric under Reese’s left arm before she went on. “I told you to stop stressing about the wedding and let the event planner do her thing.”
“She’s driving me crazy.”
“You hired her to do a job,” Amber said as she continued to work, her voice firm. “So let her do it.”
“But she keeps forgetting it’s my wedding,” Reese said. “Why else would she act as if she has such a vested interest in the bride and groom’s first dance?” She blew out a breath. “I swear I spend more time defending my choices to her than anything else.”
Amber shot her a concerned look. “Keep this frantic pace up and I’ll be altering this dress the day of your wedding. Which, I might add—” she
