It Had to Be You Georgia Clark (bookstand for reading txt) 📖

Yes, Savannah Shipley was learning the ropes of wedding planning. But the arrival of Imogene Livingstone and Mina Choi for one of their last in-person meetings before their late September wedding knocked her right off her perch.

Because the two brides-to-be were just so… gorgeous.

The family resemblance between Imogene and her brother, Zach, was clear: the wide, charming smile and huge blue eyes that sparkled beneath thick brown bangs. Mina was just as stunning, tall and poised, with a sheet of glossy black hair and a self-possessed disposition. The couple held hands loosely. While Liv went over the final run of show and setup needs, Savannah couldn’t take her eyes off the way Imogene’s thumb moved up and down slowly over Mina’s knuckle. Up and down. Up, and down…

“Savannah.”

Liv was gesturing at her, one eye on her phone, telling the brides they’d be right back. Out in the hallway, Liv explained that Ben had a tummy bug: she had to pick him up from school. “Back in a jiff. You got this, right?”

Liv had never left Savannah in charge of a meeting before. “Of course!” Two hands, interlocked. Soft hands. Long, delicate fingers. “Just, um, remind me where we were up to?”

But Liv had already hurried out the front door.

Back in the home office, Savannah gave the two women a bright smile. “Liv’s had to step out.” The spreadsheet was still open on Liv’s laptop. She closed it and opened a notebook. “So: where did you two meet?”

Mina’s eyebrows pincered. “We already went over all this—”

“At law school.” Imogene was as natural a raconteur as her brother. “In a study group. Which I quickly downgraded to a study duo. That only met late at night.”

“And was it fireworks right away, or were you friends first?”

Mina said, “I want to make sure we get the order of the speeches settled—”

“Fireworks for me.” Imogene leaned back in her chair with the ease of a talk show guest. “Nothing for Little Miss Cool over here. I swear, I was spinning plates and tap-dancing for two years to get her attention!”

“It was one year.” Mina’s smile was dry but amused. “And it wasn’t as if I didn’t notice you. I just had a… complication.”

“Boyfriend,” Imogene supplied. “I invited her over for an L Word marathon—the reboot hadn’t come out yet, so we’re talking vintage L Word—and after a lot of tequila—”

“I have to be back in court in half an hour.” Mina’s voice was efficient. “Can we stay on track, please?”

“Yes.” Savannah made a mental note to watch The L Word as soon as humanly possible. “Of course.”

But while Savannah was asking how long they wanted the welcome drinks to go for, what she really wanted to know was how long Mina had a boyfriend for. If Imogene had ever had a boyfriend. How they identified. What their parents had said. She really wanted to know that, but they’d probably think she was implying gayness was a parental disappointment. She was in the middle of a meeting; she couldn’t ask them anything. Stop thinking about asking them something!

Especially the question that kept popping into her head: How did they know?

Eventually Mina announced she had to get back to work. Minutes later, Mina and Imogene were outside the brownstone, waiting for a Lyft. Savannah lingered by the three-corner bay window, watching the way Imogene’s hand grazed the small of Mina’s back. The way Mina turned to her, giving her a soft, private smile. The way their lips met, loving and passionate, mouths open and—

Savannah realized she was spying. Creepy! She backed away from the window so fast she tripped. She was pretty certain spying on couples making out was not part of the In Love in New York offerings. And yet… she wanted to see.

She was back at the window.

Savannah had seen two women kiss before. But not two women like Imogene and Mina. Not in a way that made her feel like what she was seeing was possible, maybe, for her too. Their hands on each other, their long hair brushing the other’s cheek. For one brief, resplendent moment, Savannah stopped feeling afraid and uncertain and so completely confused. Their kiss was a bell, ringing loud and clear, echoing for miles around.

The Lyft pulled up. The brides hopped in. Savannah sank back onto the pink sofa, fanning herself, the heat of the entire summer simmering under her skin.

54

Some people treated yoga like a religion, but for Darlene, it was just a workout. An efficient and effective way to stay toned and give her anxious brain some well-deserved downtime. Except lately it wasn’t an hour of sweaty asanas followed by a mini nap with a bunch of barely dressed strangers. It was just time, more time, to think about Zach. Correction: to feel a vast array of powerful emotions solely inspired by Zachary Livingstone. Crow pose had nothing on this.

Kissing Zach at the Harvard Club triggered a tsunami of obsessive thoughts and wild affection. For the first time in her life, Darlene Mitchell was horrified to find herself lovesick. And yes, it was a sickness. It was crippling. Against her will, Zach had taken control of her mind.

She replayed every sweet and sexy moment over and over again: kissing him outside Babbo, on her sofa, by his parents’ pool. Doing gigs, writing a song, playing canasta, singing along to Salt-N-Pepa, running her fingers through his hair, feeling his heartbeat match hers. What she could not handle was the idea of anyone else doing those sorts of things with Zach. The thought of Zach kissing another woman was nightmarish. It actually hurt.

And Darlene could not physically or emotionally handle the reality that in giving herself to Zach, she was giving him the chance to destroy her when—and it was a when, not if—he kissed someone else.

If that was love, she didn’t want it. Couldn’t take it.

It needed to stop.

She needed to stop it. To get back in control of