Page 60 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“It was cheaper,” I lie. It’s a bad lie, too. Because we both know that even if it were true, which it’s not (because we didn’t have to pay for the room), money isn’t an issue for me.

Quinn narrows her eyes at me.

“Let’s just look at it,” I say. “It makes more sense. For one, it’s going to look weird to everyone if the girl I brought as my girlfriend is in a different room than I am.”

“They think I am your girlfriend?” She asks, and I put my arm around her with a smile. People are staring. And I don’t need everyone’s first impression to be that we are fighting. So I plant a small kiss on her lips and guide her to the elevators.

“Yes,” I answer, once we are inside the elevator by ourselves. “I told everyone you are my girlfriend. It sounds better than plus-one, and people kind of assume it anyway, with how much time we spend together. It’s not like you and I are a secret.”

“Are we not?” she asks.

“Are you kidding?” I ask. “You’re crashing weddings on the arm of a very famous lawyer. People see it. People talk about it.”

“Ah yes,” she nods as we continue to ascend towards the top floor of the hotel. “The infamous Reid…” She stops. “What is your last name?”

“That’s not important,” I tell her.

“Right,” she nods again.

The door opens, and she follows me out. I’m not sure which version of Quinn I like better. The excitable one from the lobby or the salty one that I’m almost afraid to turn my back to.

“I can’t believe you only got one room,” she says again as we approach the suite. “It’s very presumptuous of you.”

“And like I said, let’s just take a look at it,” I tell her. “If you hate it, I’ll get another room.”

I smile and shove the door open.

Quinn glares at me, then looks past me, and the glare disappears along with most of her expression.

“Holy shit,” she lets out, stepping inside.

“I mean, that’s what I figured when I saw the description,” I say. “But the pictures didn’t do it justice. Especially the floor to ceiling windows on three sides. Really does give a panoramic view of the beach, doesn’t it? I think you can even see the Ferris Wheel in the distance. And I thought they were lying, but I think those chandeliers might really be crystal. God, and look at these sofas! Velvet. Classy. Marilyn Monroe would be impressed. I can’t even imagine what the bed looks like. Huge probably. Big enough to starfish without touching another body. I, for one, like stomach sleeping, spread out with the A/C on blast. But if you want another room, I can get you–”

“This is fine,” she cuts me off, gasping as she looks in the bathroom. Then she walks over to the balcony and opens the French Doors. “I’m still mad at you. But this is fine.”

I grin as she walks out and takes a visible breath.

I take a moment to put my things in the closet, being careful to only take up a third of it. If I had to guess, that giant bag of hers is Tetris-ed to the max with outfits and shoes. And the last thing I want is for her to be further annoyed with me during our little vacay.

My phone starts buzzing with a call, and I answer it, but only when I see that it’s Drew.

“Yo,” I say as I continue to unpack.

“Dude. You’re in Myrtle?” he asks. “Lucky. And also inconvenient.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say. “I feel like it’s very convenient. Myrtle Beach isn’t half bad,” I grin.

“Cass is losing her mind. Because someone decided that the bachelor party would have strippers at it.”

“That was not me,” I tell him. And I mean it. “I would never.”

“No?” Drew presses. “Because the last I checked, planning the bachelor party is the responsibility of the best man. And I think that might be you.”

“And I did plan the party. Dinner at The Whiskey 101, Top Golf, and Delancy’s Pub afterwards because Tim Wagers is doing open mic, and I know how you like your Celtic grunge. No strippers,” I say.

“And yet, Cass heard there would be strippers.”

“From whom?” I ask.