He shrugged self-consciously. “I’ll have it back to you shortly.”

I wondered what he was going to do with it—beside commit it to his photographic memory. As I sat down at my laptop to compose a quick email to Glen, I thought about Adam’s sober behavior when it came to my health history.

Of course, it made sense. Sometimes when we referred to that dark year—the year I’d gotten cancer and then barely survived cancer’s even lovelier cure—it was in hushed tones. And we almost never discussed the terrible loss we’d endured in order to get that far.

It had taken its toll on both of us. And in some ways, we had our own form of post-traumatic stress disorder from it. Thus, the regular but thinly disguised breast exams in the shower and the subtle but not-so-subtle questions about how I was feeling. The fact that his assistant had been instructed to make my doctor’s appointments on the first day a follow-up appointment was due. Thanks to Maggie, I never missed an appointment.

As usual, Adam was taking control or grasping to the illusion that he had some modicum of it where this issue was concerned. But we both knew damn well that we didn’t have control. We could be diligent and vigilant. But there were no guarantees. And the heavy, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that my health issues had caused this uneasiness in him. But when you loved someone, you took all of their baggage on. And some of my baggage was health related. So be it. In sickness and in health…

I gazed out the door where Adam had disappeared with the papers. And I opened my laptop and composed an email response to Glenn Dempsey.

***

“Is there such a thing as a Groomzilla?” I asked the young women sitting at the table with me—April, Jenna, Alex, and Kat. We had met at a nearby hotel for Sunday brunch to discuss the details of my bridal shower that they insisted on organizing for me. The girls had all dressed in Sunday best, far outshining the bride, who hadn’t read the memo and showed up in jeans, a sweater, and heels instead. My bad.

“Yeah. Groomzillas are the opposite of Bridezillas,” Alex said. “My big brother was like that when he got married—a typical big Mexican Catholic wedding. Groomzillas act chill and don’t want to hear anything about the details of the wedding and then veto things days before and make it all about them.”

I frowned. “Oh.” I pushed tropical fruit sprinkled with shredded coconut around on the plate in front of me. That definitely didn’t sound like whatever it was Adam had. In the days since he’d returned from his trip, I’d been privy to a flurry of emails that were cc’d to me. They whizzed back and forth between Adam and our wedding planner as they worked out the most minute details.

I read most of the emails when I could keep up. Seriously, when did he have the time for them? I’d fallen behind on reading the news and then all had grown silent. I’d assumed that meant they’d finalized those details and we were all set—until I overheard Adam on the phone talking to her and referring to the most recent emails, emails which I’d most definitely not seen. With no small amount of shock, I realized then that I’d been kicked off the email loop and Adam only consulted me on things he couldn’t do without me. Like deciding on the dude of honor’s outfit, for example.

“Your hubby-to-be has a type A personality,” April pointed out, sipping from her tall, skinny mimosa glass.

“No shit, Sherlock,” snorted Kat as she signaled for the waitress to bring her third mimosa. “Calling Adam a type A is like saying water is wet.”

April shrugged. “I mean that it’s natural that he’d take this over. Think of it like he’s the CEO of your wedding. And you’re the chairman of the board of directors.”

I raised my brow, feeling a woozy from my one and only Bloody Mary. “So that makes me the boss, right?”

April grinned widely. “Of course. He probably realizes you’ve got a lot going on with your big medical board test and wants to make it easier on you. Consider yourself lucky. Jordan won’t even say the M-word in my presence. Not that he has to worry about me jumping on it. That boy. Sometimes…” She shook her head.

“Sometimes you want to punch him in the face?” I laughed. “Me, too.” April’s smile faltered, and she studied my empty cocktail glass. I pointed to it, following her lead. “Totally the alcohol talking. I don’t really want to punch Jordan in the face.” Most of the time, anyway.

“Don’t hurt his face, Mia. It’s too pretty.” Her smile returned.

A few minutes later, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and caught April’s eye with a nod.

“When you’re finished in there, we are totally going to talk about the bridal shower,” Jenna said. “Totally. Soon as the mimosas wear off.”

April followed me to the ladies’ room and turned to me expectantly once we got in there.

“Did you find out if there’s anything going on between Jordan and Adam?” I asked.

April grimaced. “Yeah, Jordan’s being tightlipped. But there is definitely something. Whenever Adam’s name comes up, he gets all tense and starts swearing.”

My brows shot up. “That’s almost the same reaction on the other end. I think I’m going to bite the bullet and ask him tonight. I was ninety-nine percent sure he was going to ask Jordan to be his best man, but he hasn’t and was evasive about it when I asked him. I’ll report back if I hear something. These crazy kids need to kiss and make up.”

April looked off to the side, giggling and then, suddenly, blushing furiously.

I frowned at her. “What?”

“I was picturing them kissing and making up. It was…um, kinda hot.” We both laughed.

Once we returned to the table, I was grilled about my wedding dress. I passed around the same fitting picture I’d shown April weeks before. Kat had already seen it, too.

“I’d love one of those new ombre-style wedding gowns with all the dark colors around the skirt,” Jenna chimed. “I’d get it in shades of green—or purple.”

“I’d love to do something with those 3-D lace floral appliqués and the tiny crystal beads. Have you seen those? They are to die for,” April cooed.

“Shall I let William and Jordan know that you two have your gowns all picked out?” I snarked, glancing up from my phone after having sent off a text. “I’m sure they’d love to hear it.”