Page 31 of This

When I come out, they’ve both vacated. One thing about Steve and Aria is they never pry. I get dressed and go downstairs. He stuffs me full of omelet, and she curls up on the bench next to me at the table. Neither mentions how I spent my morning in hiding or push for the reason I keep ignoring my phone. It drives me nuts, and the less they ask, the more I volunteer.

“She’s pretty,” Aria says when I show her the post.

By the time I dug my phone out of the drawer, Dane had untagged himself from the pictures, but I remembered his friend’s name who’d posted them. I tilt my head, looking at her from another angle. A high-voltage smile like Keaton’s that would draw a guy in from across the room. Genuinely happy and not missing pieces.

“She is,” I admit.

Steve pauses the old Giants game he watches and leans over from the other end of the couch. He tips the screen in Aria’s hand, so he can judge for himself. His nose wrinkles as he relaxes back in his seat, not offering an opinion beyond that, except when he glances up, hitting play on the remote, and winks.

Good man.

She hands me back my phone. “So, now what?”

“Nothing.” I fold my feet up under me. “I live my life, and he lives his.”

“And when those lives cross?” Steve asks.

I glare at him for the reminder, not that he notices with his eyes glued to the TV.

“Well,” Aria says, swiping through her phone, “with him out of the picture, I have a guy from work I’dloveto set you up with.”

I don’t have a chance to say no before Steve asks, “Which one?”

“Noah H.”

“Is that the one with the hydroponic tomato crop on the roof?”

“No. That’s Noah T. Noah H. has the Tesla.”

I have no interest in farmer Noah or car Noah, but while they sort out which one I’ll refuse to meet, Liam calls. Since we only text each other, the sick twist in my gut from last night returns, saying the call comes on behalf of a certain cousin. I leave Steve and Aria on the couch and wander toward the kitchen to answer.

“Fiancée’s best friend,” Liam says in greeting.

“What do you want, best friend’s future ex-husband?” I run my nails over Little Stevie’s head as I pass the counter where he lounges. I get one of those surprised-kitty purr-meows that makes you warm on the inside.

“Switch your visit to next weekend, and I’ll pay for you to fly first class.”

“You have my attention.” I lean on the countertop, more interested in his proposition than I’ll let on. “Why?”

“Because spending her actual birthday with you will make Keaton do that little squeal thing she does. I love that fucking squeal, Bennett. I want to hear the fucking squeal.” Then he adds, “Even if it means spoiling your ass to make it happen.”

I smile at yet another one of his incredibly sweet gestures. “You know, if you weren’t such a dick all the time, you’d be the perfect guy.”

“Keep it in your pants, Ross. Yes or no.”

I can’t even feign annoyance with him. “Of course, yes. But what about our appointment for dresses? We couldn’t schedule anything with the place she wanted any sooner.” The only reason we decided to celebrate her birthday a week late.

“You’re down for Saturday at one. I bribed them to bump another bride.”

Such an asshole but for such pure reasons.

“I can hear her squealing already.”

He sighs. “So can I. Thanks, Bennett.”

“Hey, Liam.” I straighten up, twisting at my bracelet. “Don’t tell Dane I’m coming back early.”

The request earns silence, a rarity for Liam. I know him; he’s fighting the urge to ask why. Despite the incessant insults, we would do anything for each other. He has thrown down for me more than once. If he thinks his cousin wronged me, he would again, so avoiding details saves everyone the drama.

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