Page 59 of The Wedding Situation Romance

And I do see. I see the word Bridgerton pop up on the screen and immediately say, “You do you.” I reach for my backpack, but Quinn grabs my arm and pulls me back against the seat.

“You’re going to watch this with me,” she insists.

“I most certainly am not. I’ve never watched a romance in my life, and I’m not going to start now.”

“Yes, you are,” she says. But it’s not her typical arguing voice. There’s teasing in it. Excitement. Something I have a hard time saying no to. “We are on our way to a wedding on the beach. I think it’s the perfect time to introduce you to romance. And I know exactly the couple to do it.”

Quinn doesn’t give me a choice. Instead, she hits play and shoves an AirPod into one ear before handing me the other.

I guess we are doing this. We are watching Bridgerton Season One, Episode One on the way to a wedding that she never had to go to, contractually. And even though it is not my thing, Regé-Jean Page is pretty impressive, and the Duke is slick.

Chapter 25

Reid

“How is this even real?”Quinn asks as we pull up to the resort. We are staying at the Embassy Suites, and while it is a nice hotel for sure, the way Quinn is acting, you would think we were in Greece.

“I mean, seriously,” she says. “Look at this place. It’s like a castle. No,” she bounces on the seat of the rental car and turns to look at me, her eyes wild with excitement. “It’s better than a castle. It’s like a postcard. Or one of those commercials for cruises.”

“It’s a hotel,” I say, and she shakes her head with a smile.

“No. Not this weekend. This weekend it’s a castle. My castle,” she says, and she nearly jumps out of the car before it’s even parked.

We take our things inside on a cart and Quinn wanders around while I check in. I watch from my periphery as she looks at the bar, the patio, the restaurant. I know she is looking at all these things because she tells me about each one.

“Reid? Reid,” she calls over. “There’s a garden. The pools are at the end of the garden. And the beach is right there. Like, rightthere, Reid,” she calls over, and I sigh. But the woman at the counter just smiles.

“Are you here for the white wedding?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I nod. “Remington. Last name is Remington,” I tell her.

“Alright, Mr. Remington. And do you need a room with two queens or one king?” she asks.

And I’m about to answer, with the answer that I should say. That would be right to say. But as Quinn dances around the hotel lobby like a little girl, I find myself smiling. I find myself mesmerized by her ability to distract me from everything going on in my life and remind me that there is more to life than work.

“One,” I say before I can think better of it. “One bed.”

“Alright,” I say, heading over to her. “Are you ready?”

“Did you see the pool?” she asks.

“No, but I’m sure we will. Dinner is around the patio tonight,” I answer.

“There’s a swim-up bar, Reid. Like you can actually get in the water and swim to the bar. I don’t know how you’d swim back with your drink, but that doesn’t matter. As soon as we get to our rooms, I am putting on a bathing suit and coming back down to the pool. Wait. How long do we have before dinner? I need to get a tan.”

“Room,” I say, and she is still buzzing.

“What?” she asks. “Shoot. I didn’t bring any sunscreen. Did you? Nah, you don’t need it. Your skin is like an olivey tan. I bet they sell it here. But I bet it costs an arm and a leg. I wonder if there is a CVS nearby. What did you say?”

She stops and I repeat the one syllable again.

“Room,” I say again.

“Not plural?” She asks, and it’s like I popped the balloon holding all her joy, and it’s slowly drizzling out in a puddle at our feet.

“Not plural,” I state.

“Reason?” she asks.