Page 33 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
People look our way as we make our way through the main bar. I slide my arm around Juliet, thinking about the dicks that hang out here hoping to get close to team members or their girlfriends.
“Remember,” she murmurs, “our rules say no flirting with anyone else. So there’s no need to be all possessive or growl at every other man you see.”
“No promises.”
I push her straight into the back room, which is always reserved for the team since we live in the building. Everyone’s already there. Jett’s brooding against the wall like he’s auditioning for a vampire movie. No idea what crawled up his ass today. That’s what makes him the Wildcard, I guess.
Connor and Shane are razzing the other rookies about something. Thorne’s drinking a soda because he doesn’t touch alcohol during the season. Grayson’s half-asleep with a beer in front of him. Silas is sitting across from Jett, shooting everyone malicious looks like we offended him by existing.
There’s a table of women too. Ivy and Jessa are sitting with Wren, Coach Ryan’s fiancée. Ivy waves Juliet over immediately.
I hang back and watch Juliet switch into her public persona. She’s suddenly relaxed, magnetic. Laughing easily, touching arms, tilting her head when she talks. Everyone loves her within minutes.
She’s not like that with me. She introduces herself to Wren and hugs her like they’re old friends. Not that I want that level of intimacy with Juliet, but how is it so easy for everyone else?
The girls’ table and the guys’ table get shoved together when we join the group. I slide into a seat with the team, and immediately the comments start.
Connor grins. “I’m shocked Hunter’s been domesticated.”
Shane adds, “Is it true that Juliet cooks?”
How the hell would I know if she cooks? We’ve been living together for less than a week.
Grayson raises an eyebrow. “How long have you two been together, anyway?”
I deadpan, “Too long,” and Juliet gives a fake laugh that sounds too real.
Ivy slides in with a cocktail and a sharp reminder. “You have a wedding venue appointment tomorrow morning in Westlake at ten. No murder attempts before then, please.”
I lean over toward my brothers. “Are we still on for dinner this week?”
Silas shrugs. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means maybe.” He takes a sip of his beer and goes back to brooding.
He’s so moody and silent these days that he makes me look normal, which is saying something.
“I’m in,” Jett says. “As long as Ivy doesn’t schedule another crisis management meeting.” He gestures at the thick binder she’s got propped against her drink. “Jesus, what’s in that thing? Nuclear launch codes?”
Ivy gives him a look that could cut glass. “It’s called being prepared. You should try it sometime.”
Jett shuts up immediately.
“So, just FYI, you two.” Ivy points to Juliet and me. “The wedding Save the Dates went out this morning. We sent them to the VIP mailing list, sponsors, and media partners.”
Juliet goes rigid. “The what?”
“Save the Dates. For your supposed wedding next June? The campaign software already queued them up from the rollout deck last week. I thought someone already signed off on that?”
I look at Juliet, who’s gone pale under her perfect foundation. For a second, she looks like she might actually throw up.
“We didn’t discuss that,” she says, her voice too controlled. The kind of control that means she’s about to murder someone. “That kind of news could reach our families. Who approved that?”
Ivy’s cheeks turn a scarlet hue. “I thought we had cleared it with you. Julien swore up and down he had already talked with you about it.”
I snort under my breath. “That guy is terrible at his job.”
