Chapters (48)
- Cover
- PRAISE FOR ALEXA MARTIN’S PLAYBOOK SERIES
- Titles by Alexa Martin
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Epilogue
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“I shouldn’t have to tell him my sob story for him to not be a jerk. You never know what a person is going through. But he doesn’t seem to understand that.”
Brynn squeezes my hands and her lips pull into a straight line. “You’re right,” she says. “And have you thought that maybe you don’t know what he’s going through?”
With that, she turns the faucets off and leaves me alone in the bathroom with a hell of a lot to think about.
What could Quinton possibly be going through that can compare to the loss I’ve experienced this year? The problems he’s dealing with are only there because he created them.
We don’t have anything in common. Of that, I’m positive.
So I don’t know why I look so ashamed when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Nine
Wandering back into the now empty event space, I go out of my way to avoid the corner where Brynn has pinned down Quinton. The loafers I threw on this morning are blissfully quiet as I cross the room as quickly as possible to talk with Jen.
Jen Ingram, manager of the Rue, the event space we’re using, has been a lifesaver throughout this project. While I fully knew I could create a beautiful and memorable event in a month for Quinton, finding a space large enough to host it that wasn’t booked was another story. So when she called to let me know the Rue had opened up, I jumped on it.
The distressed hardwood floors and the exposed brick walls give this historic building instant character. Between the hundreds, maybe even thousands of balloons—I may have gone a little overboard—the acrylic chairs, and the string lighting that will soon be going up, this event will be the perfect mix of old and new. Something that goes hand in hand with the issues at the heart of what the evening is going to be about.
“Hey! Don’t forget to give me the caterer’s and the balloon lady’s numbers. I need to store them in my computer,” Jen says when she sees me approaching. “And I’ll email you the new contract with the updated price. Sound good?”
As Jen sat with me and Hannah, the owner of Modern Balloon, her eyes got wider and wider as the designs set in place for the event space were listed out. Hannah had barely left the table before Jen offered to take fifteen percent off the price she’d given us if we let her use the professional pictures from the event in her marketing campaign. I probably should’ve asked Quinton if he was okay with it before I agreed, but what can I say? Your girl’s a sucker for a deal!