Page 64 of Dr. Fellow

“You excited for the wedding?” I ask, stealing a sip of her drink while I wait for the bartender to bring my own.

Cass reaches up to toy with the string of her white swimsuit top. “I’m excited to be married,” she answers slowly, her gaze flickering in the direction of the hotel. “But not the actual wedding.”

I shift in my seat, not expecting her answer. “Why? You’re going to be the most beautiful bride, Cass, and it’s going to be the best day ever.”

She’s getting married on a rooftop downtown that has incredible views of the Atlanta skyline—it even has a helipad on top so you can have the most outrageous exit ever. She hired a DJ so that we can request practically any song in existence, and dinner includes a buffet with a mac and cheese bar. I literally wouldn’t change a thing if I were her.

The sunlight reflects on her massive engagement ring as she takes another sip of her Jetfuel.

“I know, I know. It’s just . . . planning has been so stressful. My mom is refusing to take no for an answer on the Southerlands, and I’m just so over it.”

Her shiny hazel eyes flick up to the straw ceiling of the tiki bar like she’s trying to hold back tears. “I just wish Carter were here. He would always mediate. I miss him so much.”

I love my brother more than anything in the world and can’t even begin to imagine the pain she feels from losing hers. But I know if I hug her, she’ll definitely start crying, so I make a joke instead.

“You could get married tonight,” I suggest with a smile. “Elope in Vegas with all of your besties.”

Cassidy laughs, the tension in her shoulders visibly relaxing.

“You know, that doesn’t sound like the worst idea you’ve ever had.” She wipes at the corner of her eye. “Can you imagine the look on my mom’s face if I actually did that?”

The bartender slides my drink across the counter, and I take a grateful gulp, feeling the potent mix hit my system instantly. “You’d beat out Claire for the most dramatic plot twist of the year.”

She rolls her eyes and clinks her glass against mine. “Always a nominee, never a winner. Could this finally be my time to shine?”

“You always shine, babe.”

“Did I hear my name?” Claire slurs, brushing her wild curls from her face as she looks over at us. She’s been chatting with her sister about pharmacology, which is just about the lamest discussion I can imagine having at a Las Vegas pool party.

I lean over the bar, already feeling tipsy from the few sips I’ve taken. “Yeah. Cass demoted you from maid of honor, so I had to step up. Sorry.”

Claire’s bright-blue eyes go wide in disbelief as she stares at her future sister-in-law. Before she can open her mouth, her gaze flicks to mine and her expression shifts—clearly I can’t say anything with a straight face.

“You’re the worst, Morg,” she chides, throwing her plastic straw at me. “I actually believed you for a second.”

I won’t lie, I was a little bit jealous when I found out that Claire was going to be maid of honor instead of me, especially since Cass isn’t having anyone else in the bridal party. But I also understand why she made the decision—I haven’t exactly been the most supportive friend with regard to their relationship.

I hop off the bar stool and pull Claire into a hug, my face smashing into her chest. “You love me, though. This has already been such a fun weekend, and you’re the best maid of honor ever.”

“Damn right I am,” she giggles, wrapping her arms around me. “Now come pee with me. I’ve been holding it for like an hour, and I’m about to burst.”

***

On our way back from the bathroom, I stop by the cabana. I know there are a bunch of sunscreen nonbelievers out there, but I intend to look twenty-six for the rest of my life so I refuse to take any chances by not reapplying.

As I’m dancing around like a monkey, trying to figure out how to get the sunscreen on my upper back, a voice that I occasionally hear in my nightmares comes out of nowhere.

“Want some help?”

My chest tightens. “Uh, nope. I’ve got it.”

I continue contorting my body at an awkward angle as I spray myself, refusing to make direct eye contact with my best friend’s fiancé.

“You’re missing like half your back.”

No shit, Sherlock.

My body starts to feel twitchy as I pause and slowly turn to face Parker Winters. He’s wearing a black Atlanta Falcons jersey over red swim trunks, looking far more . . . normal than I’ve ever seen him. Dare I say that he looks attractive? That is, if you’re into men that also moonlight as demons.

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