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Chapter Twenty-Six
Kyle's P.O.V
She wants to come.
Of all the events, of all the dinner parties, of all the occasions...she had to pick interest in this one.
Not that I didn't want her to come but...Holly is the one hosting it, in her house.
One way or another, she is going to find out who Marcella is....and it's not going to be a pretty sight.
"Are you okay?" Marcy's voice interrupts my thoughts as she walks into my room and I turn around to find her in a stunning, red velvety dress. The dress clings to her upper body and just at the waist, it sweeps out in a charming sway that stops at her knees.
"You like?" She asks and turns a full 360, saying,
"Your sister suggested I buy it when we went shopping." She says smiling and I realize I've missed this part of her.
This giggly part.
This happy-go-smiley part of her.
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"Are you gonna tell me now?" I say to Maya as the hairstylist runs her fingers through my just-curled hair.Maya looks up from the magazine she was reading and gives me a look."What?""That this is a bad idea? That you told me so the first time? That he already made me come back in tears and I should learn from that?" I ask, waiting for her to approve.This should be a bad idea....shouldn't it?Still, why can't I resist going on a date with him? Why am I thrilled yet frightened by the idea of spending a nice, private time with Kyle Robinson?"Say something." I say, my voice high with paranoia."Like what? He is taking you out on a proper date, Marcy. I don't want us to fight because of him again.""So you have a bad feeling about this? You think this date is a bad idea right?""No,
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“What if everyone figures out why we invited them before they even make it?” I ask, laying out cutlery on the table and Kyle chuckles, carrying the huge turkey from the kitchen to the dining.“What’s there to figure out, Marcy? It’s our first thanksgiving as a married couple, and that’s all they’re going to have in mind before they get here—”“And see how fat I am.” I mutter and Kyle drops the turkey safely before coming to hold me from behind, his arms gently caressing the obvious bump in my tummy.“I don’t think Kyle Junior appreciates being called fat.” He whispers in my ear and I giggle, turning in his arms to face him.“I love you, but for the last time, we are not naming him Kyle Junior.” I say, my emphasis on the ‘not’ as I give him a pointed sta
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