Page 8 of All Bets Are Off

“We better head for dinner,” Evie says, checking her phone for the time. “I’m starving, so everyone finish up your drinks and let’s get moving so I can tuck into some steak.”

Both Theo and I reach out for our drinks at the same time, pulling each other in different directions. I glower at him; he smiles.

“We need to be coordinated in order for this to work,” he says. “Drink with your free hand, okay?”

I do as instructed, grabbing my cocktail with my left hand instead of the right that is currently handcuffed to Theodore Sinclair. Everyone else gets to their feet around us as they finish off the final dregs of drinks and gather up phones and purses. They all meander off together to STK, blissfully unaware that Theo and I are still working out the kinks of our new situation.

“Okay, everyone’s gone,” I say, standing up from my seat and yanking him with me. I hold up our connected wrists between us. “You’re strong. Break these. Right now. Please and thank you.”

“I’m flattered that you believe I’m capable of snapping metal,” Theo says, and I really wish he would drop the joyful, smug expression he’s sporting. “It’ll be fine, Hails. Fun, even. We’ll get to dance together all night! Eating dinner with one hand may prove challenging, however . . . And when I need a piss, that may be a problem, too . . .”

“You don’t understand,” I groan. At this point, the exasperation is etched into my forehead as deep, scary lines. “I have important things to do tonight.”

Theo tilts his head to one side and purses his lips at me. “You think I’m important?”

“Theo,” I scold. “I am being so totally freaking serious right now. This”—I shake our hands around—“is the last thing I need. There’s stuff I have to do this weekend that isn’t compatible with being handcuffed to you.”

“You’re here on a bachelorette party, Hails. Do fun bachelorette chick things,” he says, then wiggles his eyebrows at me before adding, “like flashing your boobs.”

“Oh my gosh. When did you become this insufferable?” Rolling my eyes in frustration, I turn to walk away from him, but of course, I only end up yanking him with me. It makes me want to scream.

We need to head to dinner or else we’ll be late, and I’m feeling trapped and claustrophobic by Theo’s proximity, and I’m suddenly very aware of my hair touching my neck, my face, my ears, and there’s too many people milling around and too much noise and too many bright lights.

I straighten my shoulders, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. “Theo, I’m feeling seriously overstimulated right now and my stress levels are rising and I’m going to have an outburst of anger if you don’t start taking this seriously. Please.”

Theo’s easy smile immediately falters as his blue eyes study my face with concern. “Okay, let’s move over here,” he says, gently clasping my fingers and leading the way out of the Chandelier and tucking us into a quiet corner of the lobby. “Take another breath and we’ll have a moment of silence. No talking from me.”

“You’re talking right now.”

“No more talking from me.” He holds his index finger to his lips and mouths, “Shhh.”

I drop my gaze to the sparkly floor tiles and close my eyes again. I shake out my shoulders to release the tension in them. Tune out the clash of slot machine jingles, voices, footsteps and music. Take that second deep breath Theo asked of me.

“Okay,” I say, lifting my eyes to meet his. “I’m okay.”

“They’ll unlock these at the end of the night,” Theo reassures me, lifting our wrists to draw my attention back to the stupid fluffy pink handcuffs. “We just get to hang out super closely for a few hours. It’ll be okay, I promise. What’s worrying you the most? You said you had important things to do. Are you worried about being in charge of Addy’s bachelorette?”

“Well, yes, but . . .” My words trail off and I anxiously bite down on my lip, because maybe I’ll sound selfish when I admit my main concern right now is not ensuring Addy has the perfect weekend, but rather how I’m supposed to sneak off to my room to write my novel’s alternative ending when I have Theo locked to my wrist.

“Hey, I’m along for the ride,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, “so whatever it is you need to do, I’m going to have to do it with you. Care to fill me in so I at least know what my plans for the evening are?”

Feeling my cheeks heat up, I manage to pluck up the courage to admit, “I need to work on my manuscript.”

“What’s a manuscript?”

“My book, Theo,” I say. “I need to work on my book.”

Theo’s lips part in surprise and he tilts his head curiously. “Your book? You’re still writing those love stories of yours?” he asks, but his tone is far from the usual patronizing tone of voice most people can’t help but speak to me in whenever they discover I’m an aspiring writer. It’s like . . . genuine interest. “I didn’t know you were still doing that. That’s really cool, Hails.”

When I was a kid, I never hid the fact that I loved to write, but as I got older and the reality set in of just how impossible it all seemed to have any shot at success, I stopped broadcasting the fact that I spent my free time writing about fictional characters making out. I’m not sure anyone knows I still write these days—not even my parents, and certainly not my friends. There’s something about chasing a far-fetched dream that makes me feel somewhat embarrassed, like I’m naive for believing I could ever achieve such a thing in the first place.

“Yeah, well . . .” I shrug, feeling my cheeks blush. I don’t know why I’ve just told Theo.

“So what’s the rush?” Theo asks, and now his eyebrows are drawn together in confusion, wondering what the problem that’s sending me into a panicked frenzy actually is. “I know you love forcing self-imposed rules upon yourself, but you can take a weekend off from writing, can’t you?”

“I am so, so, so close to maybe locking down a publishing deal, but . . . I need to rework the ending before Monday, and I also need to make sure this weekend runs smoothly for Addy, so I was planning on discreetly sneaking off to write every couple hours,” I confess, and I become far too aware of my exaggerated, flapping hand movements, shaking poor Theo’s wrist around in a thousand different directions. “And that might prove challenging if I have to sneak you off with me.”

Theo asks the obvious question: “Can’t you just tell the girls? I’m sure Addy would understand.”