Page 87 of The Dixon Rule

It’s Friday night, and I’m over at the townhouse that, until a few weeks ago, I shared with Ryder and Beckett. Now, Will’s in my old room, and soon Ryder will be moving in with his new wife. Who he’s already thinking of forsaking, it appears.

I know where he’s coming from, though. From what he’s told me, Gigi’s family has gone overboard with this wedding. A wedding they’re only having because Gigi’s father, the legendary Garrett Graham, is apparently a secret softie and wants to walk his only daughter down the aisle. I don’t begrudge him that—I can totally see my dad doing the same thing with Maryanne. Not that she’s ever getting married. Maryanne’s precious cargo. I’ve already decided that when she turns sixteen, I’m going to sit her down and talk to her about the benefits of becoming a nun. I think a convent would be a really good place for her.

“Maybe it’s not too late to get a divorce,” Ryder says, his tone so hopeful that I can’t help but snort.

“You don’t want a divorce. You’re obsessed with that woman.” I shrug. “Besides, the wedding won’t be too bad. I, for one, am looking forward to getting absolutely wasted and seeing how many bridesmaids Beckett manages to hook up with.”

“I mean, you’re already banging the maid of honor, so that’s at least one he can’t score with.”

Not quite, but now that Dixon told Gigi we were dating, it’s understandable that Ryder thinks we’ve banged each other already. I suppose I could let him keep thinking it, but I also don’t want to besmirch Diana’s reputation.

“Actually, we haven’t had sex yet,” I say.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true. We’re taking it slow.”

“Since when do you take things slow?” The question comes from Will, who pokes his head out of the kitchen. It’s just him and Ryder here, while Beckett is in Australia.

He walks in chugging a bottle of water and dressed like he’s going out. Dark jeans encase his long legs, and his blue button-down is the same light shade as his eyes.

“You off somewhere?” Ryder asks.

“Yeah, heading to the city,” Will tells him. “Actually, I’m meeting your wife and your girlfriend”—he nods toward me—“for drinks.”

Ryder narrows his eyes. “Gisele said it was girls’ night.”

“What can I tell ya? Diana invited me.” He flashes me a smug look. “Your girlfriend likes me better than you.”

“Probably,” I agree. “I annoy the fuck out of her.”

Ryder snickers. “How did this happen, anyway?”

“Nah, I saw it coming,” Will says. “They made out at the pool party, and we all had to pretend it was for a dare.”

I ignore Will’s smirk and glance at Ryder. “I don’t know. It sort of happened and now I’ve got a girlfriend.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Made it exclusive pretty fast.”

“I can’t exactly not be exclusive. She’s Gigi’s best friend and I’m not looking to get murdered. But don’t read too much into it. Girlfriend is just for lack of a better term.”

“Dude, he’s downplaying it,” Will says to Ryder. “It’s serious as fuck. He entered a dance competition with her.”

My best friend’s head swings toward me. I swallow a groan. I was hoping to keep that to myself for a while longer.

“What do you mean you entered a dance competition? What’s happened to you since you moved out? Who are you?”

“You’re asking who I am? You got married,” I shoot back. “You changed first, man. Don’t put this on me. You’re the one who ruined our friendship.”

He snickers and flips up his middle finger.

“How did you know about the dance thing?” I direct the question to Will. I’m deeply suspicious now.

“Diana announced it on Ride or Dance.”

“What the fuck is Ride or Dance?” Then it hits me, the memory of her and Kenji filming that day at the pool. “Oh no. She didn’t.”

Will grins at me.

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