Page 34 of Roses in Summer

My sister has the decency to look guilty, though not remorseful. “Well, no. But I did tell them how to dress.”

“Vixen,” Greyson grumbles, walking through the kitchen and wrapping his arms around my sister’s body. He pulls her so that she’s flush against him, her head no higher than his chest. “You didn’t think you should ask your sisters if they wanted to go tonight instead of assuming they’d be okay with it?”

“Do you really think Bianca will have an issue with where we’re going?”

Grey shakes his head over her, catching her hair in his scruff as he leans down. “That’s not who I meant, and you know it.”

“Ugh, fine. Seraphina, Bianca, as you know, there was a dress code for tonight.” I quirk a brow, trying to hide the anxiety rising in my throat at her tone. “So, I know we were going to stay here, but we’re going to Garganello’s tonight.” She has the decency to wince as she says it.

“Ava,” I groan, cutting her off, knowing exactly where she’s going with this. “You’re not serious, are you?” I look down at my shirt, more embarrassed than ever at the red smear. “Why wouldn’t you tell us this first?”

“Probably because I knew you’d act like this.”

Staring at my sister’s face, I grit my teeth, working through my annoyance. I know exactly why my sister wants to go, and I don’t blame her. Garganello’s is one of the hottest places in the city.

Sighing, I take in the hopeful looks on my sisters’ faces and the brotherly concern on Greyson’s. “Fine.” I give in, knowing that if I don’t, I will never hear the end of this. “But I need to borrow something; I have lipstick all over my shirt.”

“I have the perfect dress for you,” CeCe calls out, and I can hear the smirk in her voice.

I’m not sure if I should be more apprehensive about this night out or the outfit I’m about to receive.

—

“Celeste, when you said you had a dress, I thought it would be more than a napkin.”

She chuckles, sounding truly amused by my annoyance. “If it makes you feel better, it’s longer on you than it is on me.”

I stare at her in horror as we walk toward the stairs leading to rows of reserved tables at Garganello’s. CeCe has an inch or two on me, so it’s not surprising that the beautiful, microscopic red dress is a bit shorter on her, but if it’s barely decent on me, it must be obscene on her. “Do you wear this in the bedroom or something? How can you even go out in public with a dress shorter than this?”

“God, you are just too funny. Ava, your sister is taking your spot as the comedian,” she calls out, forcing everyone to turn their head at me.

Walking carefully up the stairs, I pull on the hem and make sure it doesn’t reveal more of my upper thigh. “I’m not trying to be funny.”

“And that just makes it all the better. Your sister tries too hard.”

“Hey!” Ava shouts, throwing a cocktail napkin at CeCe. “Don’t be rude, fire crotch.”

CeCe catches the wadded-up napkin, crushing it in her hands. “See what I mean? Annoying.” She draws out the word, rolling her eyes as she walks toward a table set with a large reserved sign on top.

I follow the group, watching as the couples pair off to sit next to each other at the long table, and I can’t help but laugh when I see what’s written as the name on the sign: Bag of Dicks.

“Fucking Lincoln,” Dante mutters, grabbing the sign from the table and stashing it on his lap.

Following the group, I sit next to Ava while B sits on my other side as though they’re barricading me.

On cue, a waitress appears, not bothering with IDs, and takes the drink and appetizer orders before disappearing. She returns with our drinks quickly, with no hesitation as she passes them around and leaves again, promising to return soon with the rest of our order. I relax as more people start filtering in, filling up the surrounding tables.

Conversation rises, a hum of chatter that allows me to fade into the background since none of it concerns me. I listen as CeCe argues with Dante—but really, justatDante, since I think the man gets off on her argumentative nature—and Wolf and Serena recount a customer’s tattoo request that involved a Japanese symbol he insisted meant “warrior” but actually meant “cheap.” They apparently had to spend an hour convincing him not to tattoo it on his body, even after Wolf presented him with the evidence of the meaning.

“You doing okay?” Ava breathes low enough that only I can hear her.

“Why are you asking me that?” I mumble, rolling my eyes at the concern she is showing me.

“Because Lincoln just walked over.”

13

Lincoln

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