Page 12 of Win Big

“I’ll talk to him,” Riley says. “For God’s sake, he’s my dad.”

I smile. “Thank you.” I jot down notes on the pad of paper in front of me. “Okay, let’s set a time line for follow-up.”

Everyone groans, but Théo grins and rubs his hands together. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

We figure out an approximate date when we’ll reconvene and present everything we’ve learned about the issue.

“Excellent. Now, who wants a drink?”

All hands go in the air.

So, this is weird, all of us being together like this. It’s also weird without Taylor and Lacey here, who I’ve gotten pretty close to. In fact, they’ve come to be my closest friends, which is nice, since my best friend, Jess, took a business transfer to Houston last year.

Lacey is married to Théo. Lacey and Taylor were neighbors and became friends when she and Théo moved here, which is how I got to know Taylor. And now Taylor and JP are a couple.

I need to talk to my girls, since I haven’t told them what happened with Wyatt the night of the New Year’s Eve party, which I tried to put behind me until I had to confront him at thearena the other day about not coming to the banquet. I thought I could do it, but I got all quivery inside and he got all dominant and annoyed at me, which made my knees go weak. I like being in charge, but damn, sometimes it’s super hot when a man takes control. Though I should hate that.

It confuses me.

“When does Lacey work this week?” I ask Théo, sitting back down now that everyone has a drink.

“Hmm.” He rubs his chin. “She’s off Wednesday, I think.”

“Oh good! We can do happy hour drinks.”

“Uh-oh.” But he grins.

“Taylor too,” I tell JP.

“That’s fine,” he says. “We’re on a road trip. Winnipeg, Detroit, Minneapolis. We leave tomorrow.”

I nod. “Perfect.”

Lacey and Tayloraren’t part of the Wynn family, other than by marriage (Lacey), so they’re a little more objective about some of the stuff that goes on. They both already know about the “family meeting” I held.

It’s a crappy day—dark, overcast, and drizzling—so we’re sitting inside at Indigo Iris in Venice Beach, where the atmosphere is warm and cozy with lots of old brick and wood, and brass lamps.

I’m eyeing Taylor’s crab salad sandwich on a brioche bun with envy. In my carb avoidance, I ordered a salad. It’s great—Greek chicken salad, with lots of feta and olives, yum—but sadly there’s no bread. Lacey’s vegetable curry also looks delicious. Ifork up a chunk of marinated grilled chicken. “So, do you want to hear about the family meeting?”

“Yes,” Lacey says. “But not yet.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“First we want to hear about New Year’s Eve and you spending the night with Wyatt.” Taylor leans closer to the table. “Spill.”

“Ahahaha. I didn’t ‘spend the night’ with him.”

“Yes you did. You texted us the next morning when you got home.”

“Yeah, but...” I pause. “Okay, we made out.”

They both straighten and give me piercing looks.

“That was it.” One corner of my mouth pulls down. “Apparently I passed out in the middle of it.”

Lacey winces. “Oooh.”

I sigh. “Yeah. Drank a little too much bubbly.”

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