A Billion Reasons (Wish 8)

12 - Wishes

Gray recovered from their night from hell better than Monty. He felt like an old man every time he moved. Luckily he could sit, so he kept his mind occupied working on documenting their trip.

A few years before, Oliver convinced him to attend a writer's workshop to improve his skills. Not many bestselling authors never spent a day at a university. Thankfully, he had an agent to edit his manuscripts and a friend whose family business was publishing.

As long as he didn't think about Sloane, he could be productive. As Tuesday wore on, he regretted accepting Bea's invitation. His cheek was still bruised and swollen. Bea would notice and ask questions. Just as he was thinking up an excuse so he could cancel, a text came through.

B: Rosa's been cooking all day. I'm wearing jeans.

He had to go but considered testing Bea. Hopefully, it wouldn't get back to his mother. His dilemma was no one in his parents' social circle, including his parents, knew about his tattoo. He always wore a jacket to every occasion. Did he dare wear a tee shirt? The weather decided it for him. It had been in the forties all day, but the temperature was forecasted to dip into the thirties.

He chose an untucked button-down. Maybe he would roll up his sleeves if he felt daring. His list of secrets was long, but his tat was not the biggest. He had imagined showing it to her one day. It was the mark of his broken heart.

When he stepped out of his room, Gray eyed him. "Bea said casual."

"Sure it's not a trap with your old man."

Dread pulsed through his blood until he remembered he wasn't ten years old.

"Screw him if it is."

"It's probably an intervention."

"Hell no. If it is, I'll walk out the door and never speak to Bea again." He felt the vise tighten on his heart. Colorful Bea was on the short list of people who honestly cared about him. "She's hyped up on her magic fountain. You and your effing wish. I'm not immune to kryptonite. It nearly killed me."

"I thought those were my fists."

"I still hurt like hell. I should hate you for beating me up."

"I'm the one with the shiner. I think exercising all night is why you're hurting."

Monty couldn't argue. He looked at his watch. "She's expecting me. See you later."

"I'm only..."

"I know a text away."

Monty enjoyed driving on his own. He didn't need Gray's services, but he rarely did except as a friend. If dinner was like their lunch, Bea wouldn't even be serving wine.

His hostess answered the door with a big smile. Sure enough, she wore a pair of denim leggings with a bright tunic covering most of her thigh.

The older woman appraised him. "You must have flocks of women chasing you."

"Not the one I wanted."

"Daring, why did you wait so long? If only you had cleaned up your act."

Her words turned the vise. Why didn't he? Stupidity? Gray warned him. He had a menu of excuses.

He shrugged. "She was so busy traveling."

"I suppose even a Whitby can't compete with baseball."

"I'd gladly change my name."

Bea laughed. "Montgomery is one of those names that can be a first or last. Whit Montgomery. Your father would have a coronary."

"I'm surprised I haven't caused him to have a few already." On top of a maid. He made a fist.