Page 48 of Wish You Were Mine

Summer sighed. “She really does. It’s sweet.”

Was that a hint of wistfulness in her voice? If so, why?

“You guys are sweet too,” she said, gesturing at Kennedy and Liam. “But not as much as them.”

Neither Kennedy nor Liam seemed to know how to respond.

“You’ll have your turn for the sickening happy ever after,” Blair told Summer, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at me, a little too meaningfully for my liking.

“Thanks, B.” Summer glanced at me. “Oh, Ash, I meant to say: I heard from the lab today. We should have Cookie’s blood test results back by this time next week.”

23

ASHER

Drunken Destiny was crowded on Saturday evening before Blair and Summer’s performance. As Liam, Kennedy, and I entered, we had to squeeze around people in order to reach the table Nate had saved for us up front.

I shucked my jacket and hung it over the back of a chair, eager to get it off before I started sweating. With this many bodies in close proximity, we were bound to start smelling each other soon.

“It’s hot in here,” Liam said, removing his jacket as well. “Are you okay, Kenz? Do you need anything?”

Kennedy sat beside Grace, who looked ready to burst any day now. “I’m fine, thanks.”

I claimed the chair between Max and Toby. Eugene must have brought some extra seats over today because there wouldn’t usually be enough for all of us. As it was, the people near the back of the pub had to stand. The atmosphere was cheerful though, conversation humming around us and the scent of beer inescapable.

A makeshift stage had been set up to the rear of the area used as a dance floor, and Blair stood behind a microphone stand, tuning his guitar.

“Where’s Summer?” I asked.

Toby leaned closer. “She’s getting ready out back with Bailey.”

“Right.” Of course she’d want to look her best. Not that Summer ever looked bad. “I might get a drink. You want one?”

He pointed at his half full pint glass. “I’m good, thanks.”

I got up and made my way between the bodies separating me from the bar. Both Eugene and Heather were on bartender duty, and I told Heather which beer I wanted, swiped my card, and leaned against the solid wood of the bar top while I waited.

A light touch landed on my arm. “Excuse me?”

I blinked and refocused on the dark, doe like eyes set in an elfin face that had appeared in front of me. “Yeah?”

The woman glanced at the table I’d come from and rubbed her glossy pink lips together. “Is that Kennedy Cox?”

“It is,” I said slowly.

Kennedy didn’t keep her presence here secret, but I was reluctant to do or say anything that might encourage someone to fangirl all over her.

She stepped closer, her teeth catching on her lower lip. “I would be so grateful if you’d introduce me to her.”

I edged along the bar away from her. “You’re welcome to introduce yourself. She likes meeting fans.”

“Liked” might be an overstatement—sorry Kennedy—but I wasn't comfortable with aiding and abetting this woman’s quest to rub shoulders with a celebrity.

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she pouted harder. “But I would be so grateful. Wouldn’t you love to find out just how grateful?”

Heather passed me my beer, and I took it.

“Sorry, but no,” I told the woman and ducked around a big guy in a coat to escape her.

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