Page 36 of Matched

“I’m sorry your birthday last year sucked so bad.” I put the car in park and turn to her. “But this one will be way different. Jim might not be here, but he’ll make it up to you.”

“You’re right, he will. And I am kind of glad that you dragged me out of the house as I do have something to celebrate outside of my birthday.” Taya fiddles with the strap of her purse as she takes a deep breath. “Lyons called earlier.”

My brow quirks at the same time my eyes narrow. “To wish you a happy birthday?”

“And to let me know Santoro was not only convicted but sentenced to life in prison without parole.”

She bursts into tears and I reach over and engulf my best friend in a hug. This is huge news. After a couple of minutes pass, I pull back and wipe the tears from Taya’s face. “We do have a lot to celebrate. So, let’s get started on enjoying our own ridiculous version of Comic-Con.” My hand waves up and down our bodies, and we both explode into laughter, glancing down at our costumes.

We exit the car and meet at the back, already garnering glances from people in the lot. By the time I grab the door to the restaurant, Taya and I are not just comfortable in our garb but playing it up. Cue the blockbuster movie music in my head and slow motion entry—the superheroes have arrived.

“They beat us here.” Taya points to a primo table with a killer view of the ocean where Marge and Hayden wave us over as inconspicuously as they can.

Marge stands to hug Taya. Damn, she looks sexy in her Catwoman getup. Fingers crossed I’ll look that good after having children.

“You guys, thank you so much for doing this, for putting on these costumes and going out with me. And, Hayden, I know we don’t know each other well, but I’m so glad you’re here,” Taya says.

“Any chance I have to put on my Harley Quinn costume is a surefire way to get me to go out,” Hayden says.

We all laugh just as the server approaches, pulling out his pad and pencil. “I’d ask if you’re having drinks tonight, but I can see that would be a stupid question.”

“Ladies, a pitcher of margaritas to start?” When I get nods all around, I turn back to the server. “And can you start us with your best sampler?”

“The best? Ooh, that’s a tough choice.”

I wave my hand in the air. “Surprise us. We’re wild women tonight.”

He nods and sticks the pen back into his pocket. “You got it.”

Taya catches my gaze and mouths a thank you, gratitude evident in her eyes, and my heart fills with warmth.

We spend the next few minutes oohing and aahing over our costumes, taking selfies, and laughing at the looks people are giving us. Then Taya fills the rest of our group in on the good news. Marge reaches across and grabs her hand. “Have you told Jim yet?”

“No.”

I purse my lips. “He’s going to pitch a fit you didn’t call him right away with the news, which means we all are going to have to deal him being extra grumpy.”

Taya rolls her eyes. “He’ll get over it. And hopefully be relieved. Maybe even call off some of the team guys still here from being my unofficial bodyguards.”

We all laugh having encountered her protection detail in one way or another. Like the one guy who insisted on coming to the movies with us. Or the newbie who followed us into the nail salon. We treated him to a pedicure.

When a runner brings our margaritas to the table, I hand him my phone and ask if he would take a group shot of us. After the photo is taken, I grab the pitcher and start pouring.

Marge lifts her glass in the air. Crap, a toast. Going from exhaustion to full-speed-ahead party planner was a whirlwind for my brain, so I appreciate the help. The rest of us follow her and clink. “Happy birthday, Taya.”

I take one sip and set mine down—Marge seems to be at my pace—while Taya and Hayden keep theirs tipped back until they’ve got a nice buzz going. We chat and eat and have girl talk, and for a few precious moments, it’s like we don’t have a care in the world.

“This ceviche is to die for.” I shove another loaded chip into my face and refuse to pull that I’m going to the gym later mindfuck.

“I like these melon-skewer thingies,” Taya says.

Another pitcher comes our way as the once-bright sky now fades to a soft gray on this beautiful summer night. Taya pours this time and as she fills Hayden’s glass, she says, “God, I love your hair, Hayden.”

I was thinking the same, admiring how the pink at the top blends into a gorgeous purple.

“Don’t let Bear hear you say that,” Marge warns.

“Who’s Bear? We have no husbands tonight.” I meant it to be funny, but an awkward silence passes over the table for a moment, and I want to kick myself.

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