Page 57 of Well Played

“He sounds hot,” I said, just to mess with her.

“You think you’re funny, but you’re not.” Her voice was so flat I couldn’t help chuckling.

She sighed.

“We have a bit of a problem. Idiot here offered to let me use his truck to get the cake to the venue and it’s broken down on the side of the road. He was supposed to be calling a tow, but apparently he doesn’t follow instructions well.”

“The tow will take a couple of hours. By that time, the cake will be late, and the icing will have melted in the heat. I’m the hero here, stop treating me like a villain.”

“Stop being an asshole, and I’ll stop treating you like one.”

“Ahh… guys? Where are you? We’ll pick you up.” I didn’t have time to sit and listen to their bickering, even if the tension between them was off the charts. I wondered if they’d fucked, then immediately decided that was something I didn’t need to know about my future sister in law.

The arguing on the other end of the line paused while Elle gave an exact location and Violet promised to head straight out to pick them up. I gave her hand a thank you squeeze as she ran out the door and relayed her cell number to Elle in case they needed to give any updates.

After promising help was on the way, and waiting through another round of arguing I ended the call and blew out a breath.

“At least we know the cake is on its way, right?” An awkward smile from Mateo and a blank stare from Luca were my reply.

“Right.”

I combed my fingers through my hair, once again questioning whether I should have cut it shorter for the wedding so that there would be less of it to deal with. Too late now.Luckily, it was naturally pin straight, which meant I could run a brush through it and call it done. The idea of sitting still while someone stood over me and twisted it all into an elaborate design made me want to break out in hives.

I wandered into our bedroom to start on my makeup when the dress bag hanging on the back of the door caught my attention. Violet had dropped it by the day before after running to the store to pick it up for me, and I hadn’t had the nerve to look at it yet.

I’d agreed to a traditional white dress the designer had insisted I needed to go with the traditional wedding. With my past, the idea of presenting myself as a virgin on my wedding day seemed laughable, but if that was what was expected, I’d play along.

As long as I could call Oscar my husband by the end of the day, everything would be perfect.

I retrieved my makeup bag from our ensuite and had just started to lay out my brushes when the doorbell rang.

“I got it!” Mateo called from the kitchen, and a moment later I heard the click of the front door followed by, “Well hello, Ladies.”

“Down boy,” a familiar voice said, then shouted, “Where’s the bride?”

“In here,” I called back, waiting for Tia, Oscar’s eldest sister to find me.

“What are you doing hiding away in here?” she asked, leaning a hip against the doorframe.

“I’m on my own for makeup today.”

Tia straightened, blowing a dirty blonde lock of hair out of her eyes. It was always a shock speaking to Tia, she looked exactly like Oscar from the floppy blonde hair right down to the forest green eyes. The only difference was she had tits and used to kick a soccer ball better than anyone I’d ever met.

“Grab your bag and sit out here, I’ll look after you.”

“Thanks, Tia.” I smiled, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders as she returned it. One of the things I’d learned quickly about the Cavanaughs was that they loved hard and would do anything for family. I wasn’t just gaining a husband today. I was also getting two sisters and an amazing mother-in-law as a part of the deal.

I sat on the edge of the bed while Tia laid out everything she needed to help me look my best.

“Distract me. Tell me what’s new with you,” I said, rubbing my hands over my knees and stealing a glance at the dress bag.

“Nothing much. We got a new pizza cook at the restaurant.”

“Is he cute?”

She shot me an admonishing look. “Just because you found your soul mate with my brother doesn’t mean the rest of us are ready to settle down. Yes, the pizza cook is cute. He’s a half-deaf eighty year old Italian man who only has enough English to insist I’m too thin and should eat more pizza.”

“He sounds like a keeper.”

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