Ready or Not (The Love Game Book 4) by Elizabeth Hayley (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📗

“It is what it is. It made me who I am, and I like who I am, so there’s that,” I said, offering her a small smile.

Taylor opened her mouth to speak, but we were interrupted by a young guy—probably early twenties—bringing out our food.

“Turkey club?”

“That’s mine,” Taylor said.

The guy placed it in front of her and then put my dinner in front of me.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“I don’t think—” I started but was interrupted by a yell from the kitchen.

“Damn it, Rudy, what did I tell you about taking over my tables? Trying to steal my tips is what you’re doing. I’m onto you. What, do you think I’m blind?”

The guy—Rudy—closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, Grandma, I don’t think you’re blind,” he said without turning around. “I know it,” he added under his breath. When he opened his eyes again, he looked between Taylor and me. “Sorry. I have to take her food out or else her customers will be wearing it. You all good here?”

Taylor opened her mouth, and a giggle escaped. She cleared her throat and said, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Great.”

“Rudy!”

“Give me strength. Coming, Grandma.” And then he turned on his heel and hurried toward the kitchen.

Taylor and I looked at each other for a second before dissolving in laughter.

“I swear, I’m coming here every week,” she said.

“I told you you’d love it. Never doubt my taste in diners. And you better not come without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied, her tone more serious than it had been.

I gave her another small smile. “Good.”

We fell into companionable silence as we started eating our meals. But after we’d taken a couple of bites, she spoke again.

“Ransom?”

I looked up at her and waited for her to continue.

“I like who you are too.”

As we sat in the Greasy Spoon with a blind grandmother named Helen reaming out her grandson Rudy amid the aging I and heart-clogging portions, Taylor and I had a moment. And it was utterly perfect in its imperfection.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Chapter Thirteen

R A N S O M

“What kind of tuxes do you think would be best?”

The question came from Brody, who looked deep in thought as he held his beer between both hands and rolled it back and forth slowly. Drew and I exchanged glances across the pool table. We were used to Brody saying random shit, but this question had come out of the blue even for him.

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you…like…taking someone to prom? Did I miss something?”

Brody jolted out of whatever trance he’d been in and jerked his head back. “Gross, man. I’m in my mid-twenties. I’m not taking someone to a high school dance.”

“Well, what the fuck are we talking about, then?” Drew asked.

“The wedding,” Brody replied as if the question were a stupid one. “Your wedding…to my sister.”

Drew and Sophia never really talked about being engaged, so I almost forgot about it.

“I don’t know what tux would be best,” Drew said. “We just started talking about dates. I think Sophia has a few places she wants to check out, but beyond that, we haven’t given it a whole lot of thought. We’ve got time.”

Drew appeared completely relaxed about the planning, while Brody seemed flustered.

“That’s what you think,” he said as he ran an anxious hand through his hair. “One second you’re buying a ring and proposing, but before you know it, you’re promising to spend your entire life with one woman in front of everyone you love.”

I wasn’t sure what exactly this was about, but I had a feeling it didn’t have much to do with Drew and Sophia’s engagement.

Drew laughed and shook his head before refilling his glass from the pitcher that was sitting on a nearby high top. “And you’re an expert on this because you let your mom plan a fake wedding for you and someone you barely knew?”

Brody smirked. “Yes. And you don’t know the stress involved in having your parents think you’re married when you’re not, and then planning a wedding to the person they think you married, all so they don’t have to tell your extended family you eloped, which you didn’t even do.”

Drew stared blankly at him. “Yeah, I’m thinking I’m not gonna take your advice on this one.” Then he turned back to the pool table, lined up his shot, and missed the cue ball entirely. “That’s your fault,” Drew joked, pointing his stick at Brody. “Now you have me distracted, like I should be doing something more than just looking at pictures of places Sophia finds and saying whether I like them or not. You think I should start a wedding board on Pinterest?”

I couldn’t tell whether he was serious, but either way, his comment had me laughing. “Make sure you don’t pin any black tuxes. Dark colors make Brody look paler than he already is.”

“Asshole,” Brody said with a smirk. “But yeah, a light gray would be good. I mean, if you want.”

Drew went up to the bar a few minutes later to get our pitcher refilled, and I couldn’t help but ask. “What’s with all the wedding questions?”

Brody shrugged but didn’t say anything.

“This isn’t about Drew’s wedding, is it?” I’d had a hunch something was up, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until I remembered Aamee was coming home this weekend.

“Of course it is. Who else is getting married?”

“You?”

Brody did his best to look surprised, like my comment was completely unwarranted, but he was shit at acting, despite the fact that he was always getting into situations that required him to do so.

“Uh, not me,” he said.

“You get her a ring yet?”

Brody’s sigh told me he’d given up his attempt at pretending this wasn’t about him. “No. I’m not sure whether I want to, but I just miss her so damn much.” His mouth twisted a bit after he said it, like hearing the words come out surprised even him. “God, that’s so