Page 67 of Wrong For Me

“God, no,” he says. “None of them can keep a secret to save their life.” A pause. “Maybe my parents, but not until after I have the ring.”

“You should tell them.” I know how much him sharing something so big will mean to his parents, especially Uncle Cash. Things are much better between them now, but the years when Will was holding himself at a distance were really hard for his dad.

We’re getting close to the airport now, and I can’t tell if I’m relieved or disappointed. Part of me wants to go right back to the apartment and wring every detail from him—when he decided to do this, where they’ll live, what kind of ring he thinks Eva will like.

But the other part of me feels almost desperate to get out of this car. I want to get far away from this revelation so I can try and wrap my mind around the massive change. So I can try to figure out why the very idea makes me feel so scared. The last thing I want is for Will to guess that I’m feeling anything other than thrilled for him.

“Sorry I kind of sprung this on you right before you left,” he says sheepishly as we pull into the departure drop-off lane. “I’ve just been thinking about it so much, I felt like I was going crazy. I needed someone else to know, you know?” He puts the car into park and turns to face me, his familiar blue eyes filled with sincerity. “I neededyouto know. It felt completely wrong to be thinking about this without telling you.”

A lump comes to my throat. Maybe I don’t need to worry so much. Maybe things won’t change so drastically after all. Married or not, we’re always going to be Rose and Will. Best friends. Family.

I lean over to kiss his cheek. “I’m so, so happy for you, cousin.”

“Thank you, Rosie.” He glances at the clock. “Let’s get you inside.”

He gets out of the truck, pulling my bag from the back of the cab and wheeling it around to my side. Before I can take the handle, he pulls me into a tight hug. “Have a great time, okay?”

“Oh, it’s going to be lit. I hear there’s going to be a panel on neuroimaging advancements.”

He laughs as he releases me. “You can pretend you’re above it all you want—we both know you’re crazy excited about the neuro-whatever.”

“You got me.” I take my bag. “You know, I’m going to have about a thousand pictures of rings saved on my phone by the time I get home.”

He laughs. “I’m counting on it.” He nods towards the entrance. “Better get in there. Security might be rough this time of day.”

I wave and turn to go but I barely make it two steps before I’m spinning around and throwing myself back into his arms. I squeeze my best friend tight and he hugs me right back. “I’m so, so happy for you, Will. I think this is great. I really do.”

“Thanks, Rosie. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

At least Will’s revelation gives me plenty to think about on my flight, distracting me from the nerves I would otherwise be feeling. I wasn’t lying about being happy for him. Eva is amazing, and absolutely perfect for him. In a lot of ways, I owe her. She brought my cousin back to us when he was hurting and broken. Most importantly, she makes him happier than I’ve ever seen him.

But as true as all of that is, I can’t shake the anxiousness that’s settled in my belly. Will has always been the person I rely on most. My best friend, my partner in crime. The person I could tell anything—all the stuff we wanted to keep from our parents and our younger siblings. For years I was the only person he would talk to about what happened with his ex. When the guy I thought I loved betrayed me and my entire world was falling apart, Will was the person who held me together.

I can’t stand the idea that I might lose all of that.

I’m still feeling a little preoccupied when I arrive in Denver and get on the shuttle bus to the resort. The scenery distracts me almost immediately. I’ve seen most of the country through the windows of my dad’s tour bus, and you can’t get much better than snowcapped rugged mountains when it comes to scenery.

Still, I’m relieved when I finally make it to the resort. The stress over the flight has me feeling worn down. All I want to do is get into my room and stretch out on the bed with a book for a while before I have to go down and be social at the conference.

My exhaustion must have my mind playing tricks on me. Because I could swear that the guy standing with his back to me at the check-in desk is Leo. He has the same sandy brown hair, same expanse of broad, muscular shoulders.

Then the guy turns so I can see his face. Green eyes, sharp jaw. Same piercing gaze I’ve become so accustomed to in the past few weeks.

The guy standing in the middle of this hotel a thousand miles from home doesn’t just look like Leo Malone. ItisLeo Malone.

What. The. Fuck.