The Billionaire And The Waitress (gxg)

12 - an idea

THE wedding was not happening.

      "Do you have any idea how expensive going to Greece will be?" Muse seethed. "My bank account takes a hit from buying Mr. Noodles." 

      Maybe it was time to burn that contract and call the whole marriage off. They already couldn't even agree on a location.

      Adrien, completely at ease in unfamiliar territory―Muse's apartment―simply leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Funny."

     "Funny?"

     "Funny that you think you're paying for a cent of this wedding, Muse, when you know fully well how much money I have."

     Muse fumed. Pegasus, the cat, twisted between her ankles. After signing the contract in Central Park, they had kept walking and Muse had ridiculously, stupidly offered that they come back to her place. Her 250 square feet apartment, with rusted decade-old air conditioning panels, water damage in the ceiling, and a perpetually leaky faucet. She still didn't know why she had done that. Adrien was probably used to gold-plated stovetops and napkins embossed with her initials.

     "Just because you're richer than God," Muse said, "does not mean I have to let you pay for everything―"

     "Let me?" Adrien snorted. "No one lets me do anything."

     As if in agreement, Pegasus leaped onto the counter, purred, and nuzzled the lapel of Adrien's blazer.

    "But Greece." It came out pained. "I can't afford Greece."

    They'd started talking about a wedding date and a location. The time had been easy enough to decide: one month. As for the location, Muse had assumed they'd be getting married in New York City. 

     Adrien had found the idea so far-fetched she'd been speechless at first.

    "We can go anywhere in the world," she had said. "And you want to stay here?" 

    Want was a strong word, in Muse's opinion. She loved New York City. But she had never considered a wedding abroad. First, because she didn't have the money. And second, because until less than two days ago, she hadn't pictured herself getting married at all. 

   But the idea of a wedding far away, with ocean waves and mountains and pretty cobblestone walkways . . . 

   "Forget about the money, Muse. Just for a moment." Adrien leaned off the counter. She reached out―touched Muse's jaw with her fingertips, featherlight. "Do you want to get married in Greece?"

    Muse closed her eyes. She pictured a warm, salt-kissed breeze. Silken sand between her fingers. Sun beating hot against her face, reddening her cheeks. 

    "I . . . I guess." The words came out barely a whisper.

    Adrien pulled away. The absence of her touch on Muse's face made Muse feel a little colder. But when she opened her eyes, Adrien was smiling.

    "Then we're going to Greece."

"LILIES or lavender?"

      Two hours later, Muse and Adrien were side by side on Muse's balcony. It was barely more than three feet in length, and the concrete was old and stained by things Muse didn't want to even think about. But Adrien hadn't complained once. There was no pity, no condescension there. It was as if Adrien took no note of their surroundings, nothing except Muse. That kind of attention had Muse's heartbeat thundering against her chest.