“You mean ride or die.”
She stares back at me blankly. “Why would I mean that? Anyway, I’m behind you. I support you, whatever you choose. Like, do you want to go egg his car? I’m so down. There are eggs on my backseat. But do you want to trust his word and make adorable babies? I’m also there. I’ll be the cool Aunt Sash. They’ll call me when they’re drunk or need a new fake ID.”
I’m not asking about the eggs. I’m not. “I suppose you gave them the first fake ID, too.”
“Obviously. The point is, babe, I’m here for whatever you decide, but it’s not something I can decide for you.”
“Well, why not?” There’s a whine to my voice, but I don’t give a shit. Adulting is hard. “Isn’t that literally in your job description?”
“Pretty sure my job description just saysbros not hoes, so do with that what you will.”
I can’t help smiling, but it falls away after a moment. “I don’t want to be hurt again, Sash.”
“No one wants to be hurt.” She shrugs lightly, her pink fluffy sweater sliding off one shoulder, revealing a white tank strap underneath. “Life is pain. Everyone else is just selling something.”
My mouth pops open. “Are you actually misquoting The Princess Bride at me? That’s your pep talk?”
“I sense from your tone that you don’t approve.” Her mouth turns down in a comical frown, eyes wide and unblinking.
“This is what I get for taking advice from a cushion,” I grouse.
She gasps, pressing a hand to her throat. “I am offended!” She strokes her sweater, smiling softly down at it. “This is quickly becoming my favorite sweater, even more so because you don’t like it.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” I hide my smirk behind my wine glass. “I just remember a similar fabric that once lived on my grandma’s couch.”
Before she can spew a retort back at me, a throat clears right beside us, and we look over, finding a man standing at the balustradethat separates us from the footpath. The inky dark hair and charming smile are immediately recognizable, and I smile.
“Caleb, hi. Fancy seeing you here!” I gesture to my friend. “This is Sasha.” His eyes swing over to her, lingering for a second as he gives her a head nod before shifting back to me. I look over at her, saying, “This is the guy I met at Astoria when Glen didn’t show.”
Her face has gone pale, and I send her a questioning look. She gives me a tight smile, lifting her drink to her lips and not saying a thing.
I tilt my head, but then Caleb says, “Ah, Glen.” I look over, catching his smirk. “The pussy lover.”
I laugh, expecting Sasha to join in, but then she abruptly pushes away from the table with a rushed, “Excuse me,” and she’s gone, disappearing inside. I look back at Caleb and he’s watching her go. When he looks back at me, he flicks up a dark eyebrow.
“I was disappointed you didn’t call,” he says smoothly, “but then I read something a few days ago that explained a few things.”
I groan, knowing exactly what article he’s talking about. With all the media coverage of Donald’s arrest, Declan and his family have been very much in the spotlight, so it’d been impossible to keep the annulment under wraps. In that article, there’d even been a photo of the two of us outside the courthouse, standing too close and eyes locked.
“Your six-week marriage beat out some celebrities,” Caleb remarks with amusement.
Before I can respond, Sash’s back, gulping back her wine like its water. “You okay?”
“Peachy.”
Caleb glances her way, something flashing across his midnight eyes, but then his lashes drop, shuttering the look. Sasha glances over the doors to the bar, a grin pulling up her lips, and I follow her stare just as our friend, Lucas, comes outside, heading straight for us, light blue eyes hard as he takes us in.
“Luke! Oh my god! We were just talking about you,” Sasha cries out.
“We were?”
“You were?”
We speak at the same time, my tone surprised and Lucas’ wry. Heruns a hand over his brown hair, eyeing Caleb with a slight sneer to his upper lip.
“If I’d known you guys were into eating with vermin, I’d have gone somewhere else.”
Caleb laughs humorlessly. “Cheap shot, even for you, Petrosen.”
