“You really do.”
GEMMA
Gemma walked into the restaurant and immediately spotted her brother and sister-in-law. They were at the bar waiting for a celebratory cocktail with her before the rest of the family joined for her release-day dinner.
Chris and Daphne were deep in conversation, untouched drinks forgotten as they leaned together and talked. Gemma smiled at the sight, even if she also felt a pang suspiciously close to envy. Wasn’t this what she’d always envisioned in a marriage? Two people, partners in life and best friends, endlessly lost in one another.
She could be envious, but more than that, she was happy for her little brother. There was a reason Gemma gravitated to nice guys in romance. Because all the men in her family were ridiculously nice and had made ridiculously happy marriages.
In Daphne, Gemma had also found a friend… and a writing mentor. Daphne was a Mason Moretti–level author, the sort whose debut novel sold for mid–six figures and then went on to outperform even those high expectations. Despite that fame, Daphne was as down-to-earth as Chris, generous, and, yes, nice, if in a reserved way that could come across as intimidating, especially when she was nearly six feet tall and built like an Amazon warrior.
Daphne was laughing at something Chris said when he spotted Gemma. His eyes narrowed, and her steps slowed.
“Mason Moretti?” Chris said. “Mason Moretti?”
Gemma sighed and pushed onto a bar stool so she could be at eye level with them. After the Mason high school incident, Chris had devised an adorable plan to waylay Mason after hockey and call him out on his bad behavior. That might have worked these days, but at twelve, Chris had been so skinny that Mason probably would have walked past without seeing him.
“Seriously, Gem? Mason Moretti?”
“I needed to write an asshole lead character, so I chose the one I knew best.”
Chris eyed her. Then he took a gulp of his beer. “At least it wasn’t Alan.”
“Gemma’s waiting until she writes a murder mystery for that,” Daphne said. “Or horror.”
Gemma grinned. “Definitely horror.”
“He’ll be that corporate guy who strides around giving orders, until he’s attacked by the monsters and ripped into tiny pieces as everyone cheers.”
Chris picked up his beer. “I… think I’ll go drink over there.”
“I write about zombies,” Daphne said. “You know I can do gruesome.” She looked at Gemma. “You ever want Alan to play a cameo, just let me know.”
“And Mason Moretti?” Chris’s voice dropped, going serious. “He hurt you, Gem.”
“Okay,” Daphne said carefully. “I have to ask. When Chris says this guy hurt you… I know he plays an enforcer…”
“The only thing Mason hurt was my feelings,” Gemma said. “We kissed behind the school. His friends said he did it on a dare, and he corrected them, but not enough to stop the story.”
“See?” Chris said. “Asshole.”
“Was it a good kiss?” Daphne asked.
Gemma leaned in. “Amazing.”
Chris threw up his hands.
“Hey,” Gemma said. “A guy can be an asshole and a good kisser. That’s what makes him romance-hero material.” She glanced at Daphne. “And don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
“You wanted me to be patient and not change what I write to suit the market.”
“You did what was right for you, Gem. And it worked.” Daphne lifted her glass. “You are officially a published author. Now, let’s forget Mason Moretti and get you a drink.”
CHAPTER SIX
GEMMA
