Caleb + Kate Read Online Free Page B

my bed. The white sheets and comforter are a tangled mess, but I know Monica isn’t going to wait for me to straighten up. I glance at the round clock on my nightstand and can’t believe it’s already close to noon. “Let me pack up a few more things and then we’ll head over, okay?” It’s still a forty-minute drive to the hotel.
    â€œSure. Can I borrow your black Jimmy Choos for tonight?” Monica asks, then disappears again.
    â€œOf course. The new ones or the old ones?”
    Monica walks out and holds the shoes up against her dress. “New. The pair I got at Versace in LA don’t look good with my dress after all.”
    I open my travel bag and start packing.
    â€œSo how was last night?” Monica asks as she flops down onto the white loveseat across from my bed. Then she straightens up suddenly and touches the curlers along the back of her head.
    â€œIt was fine, I guess.”
    â€œDid you see anyone special?”
    I smile. “That was the best part. The art was kind of modern, made from things like toothpicks, soda can tops, plastic bottle lids. It wasn’t for me, but I did see Ryan Gosling and Harrison Ford.”
    â€œReally! I had such a crush on Harrison Ford when I was a kid. He’s getting kind of old now.”
    â€œHe was old when you were a kid too.”
    Monica gives me one of her condescending glares that I find humorous but most people find intimidating. “Kids don’t realize the age difference. How did Ryan Gosling look in person?”
    â€œVery good. He smiled at me.”
    â€œOf course he did.”
    â€œIt might just have been because someone next to me was taking his picture.”
    â€œI doubt it. But what I really want to know is how was it with Ted?”
    I toss her an annoyed expression as I head toward the closet. I grab my silver Gucci heels, an extra pair of silver heels for emergency’s sake, and my ballerina slippers to use after I’ve danced an hour or so.
    My parents—or rather, my mother—insisted I attend the Portland Art Museum charity event. I’d thought my father would help me escape, but he was distracted. Ted and his family were at our table during the artist’s presentation.
    When I walk out, I continue, “Ted was Ted. He acts like he’s already on the campaign trail, going around talking to everyone, shaking hands, talking to my family like they’re his best friends.” Ted plans to follow his father into politics. Some say he could be a future president. That’s laughable.
    â€œOh, you’ll marry Ted one day.”
    Her nonchalant words hit me like some kind of prophesy of the apocalypse. I sit on my bed in horror. “Why would you ever say something like that?”
    â€œBecause for one, he’s not as bad as you think—and it isn’t like he actually cheated on you. You two weren’t official. And you’re a Christian so you have to forgive him. Secondly, he’s in love with you, and not so long ago, he was all you could think about. And you’re a sucker for anyone who falls in love with you. Remember Joey Kamps in fifth grade?”
    I fall back onto my pillowy comforter. “I was ten years old! Will you get over that already?”
    â€œHe was a school shooter in the making,” she says. “Whatever happened to him?” Monica puts a finger to her lips. “Oh yeah, he’s at a school for wealthy juvenile delinquents. And you went to the seventh grade dance with Clarence Wingdinger—or whatever his name was. Family owned that chain of funeral homes. Need I mention all the e-mails to that Bulgarian guy we met on the beach in Marseille?”
    â€œHe was Latvian, not Bulgarian. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings or make him think Americans are rude.”
    Monica rolls her eyes. “Third, Ted will be successful. The two of you would make a great team.”
    â€œSounds romantic,” I