“She looks so happy.” Willa snaps another picture of the couple before turning the camera to the centerpieces.
I nod, looking at the smile on my best friend’s face. She really hit the lottery with that one. “Are you coming home for Thanksgiving this year?” I ask.
Willa takes a deep breath, holding it briefly before turning to me. The smile from before has fallen into a cool, flat line. I wouldn’t call it a frown, but I wouldn’t call it anything else either. “I haven’t decided yet. Are you?”
“I’ll go if you do.” I laugh, and she smiles again. Not going isn’t an option for me. I can’t stand seeing my parents’ disappointment. Doing what they expect of me keeps the peace. Willa, on the other hand, couldn’t care less and doesn’t visit often. When she moved to LA for college, against our parents’ wishes, she never looked back. I can count on one hand how many times she’s been home since leaving.
“I’ll think about it.” She sighs, checking her watch. “I have to get to my next photoshoot, but I want to say hi to the happy couple first.”
“I’ll come with you.” I loop my arm around hers as we walk across the room toward my friends.
CHAPTER THREE
HUNTER
Enough with the goddamn giggling. Chase and Kayla are snuggled up across the table from me like they’re in some kind of love cocoon. It’s adorable in the same way gouging my eyes out with a fork would fix my vision. I understand a candlelit Italian restaurantsets the mood, or whatever the fuck people say in the movies. But if I hearbabyone more time, like it’s not the most clichéd term, I’m walking out. There are so many better things I could do on a Saturday night.
Drumming my fingers, I stare at the flickering shadows the tea lights cast across the wooden table. Elevator music playing just under the din of the evening crowd does nothing but amplify the noise in the room. The Tuscan finish on the walls is too orange, as if they used the house vodka sauce instead of paint.Everything in here is distracting. My eyes sweep over the arched windows framed by gaudy burgundy curtains, settling on the restroom hallway next to the kitchen.
Ashlie abandoned me for the bathroom ten minutes ago. I’m tempted to head that way just to take a breather, but the sounds of giggling pull me back to the table with a lip-curling grimace.Give me a fucking break. Watching these newly engaged lovebirds turns my stomach. Maybe I should be used to it by now, but their PDA still feels like an intrusion.
“You two should really get a room,” I say, trying to disrupt the awkwardness.
Without looking at me, Chase dips his head to kiss Kayla’s shoulder. “Oh, we intend to…”
Bleh. Scrubbing my eyes with bleach would be more pleasant than watching them sprinkle their vomit-inducing “love parmesan” all over what’s left of my pasta. I’m tempted to knock Chase’s Chicken Marsala into their laps, but mushrooms are as offensive as their PDA. I reach for my glass and tip a couple of ice cubes in my mouth instead.
Slinging an arm around Kayla, Chase turns to me. “So, I wanted to ask if you’ll be my best man.”
He already knows the answer is yes. We’ve been best friends since birth, basically brothers. “Will I have to watch more of this?” I wave my hand in their direction with a scowl.
“Absolutely. But don’t bring whoever you brought last night,” he says.
“Yeah, don’t bring her.” Kayla scrunches her nose. “She scowled the entire time. Where did you even meet her, Hunt?”
“Uh, the coffee shop, I think. Or was it the gym?” I shrug, hardly caring to remember the specifics. Women flock to me, and I go along with it. They don’t stick around long enough to mean anything, so there’s no point of putting my energy into knowing them. I either get bored or distracted before moving on to the next. Ava’s no different. We’ve only had a couple of dates, but she’s all sorts of drama. And she was a littletooexcited when she found out I’m the son of a multimillionaire. I don’t do dramaorgold diggers. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m not feelin’ it with her anymore.”
Kayla snorts and shakes her head. “That figures. Are you ever going to settle down?”
“And be whipped like you two? Naw,” I say, fidgeting with my fork. “That’s not my thing. I like my space too much. And I damn sure don’t want to answer to anyone.”
She cocks an eyebrow as her head falls to the side. “Do Ilooklike I answer to anyone?”
Chase laughs into her shoulder, unwilling to get in the middle of our sibling squabble. I can’t blame him. I swallow my smart-ass response too. There’s no way I’ll win this battle with my sister. Half sister, technically—same dad, different moms. We’ve only known about each other for five years, learning of our relation right around the time she got together with Chase. She may be a few months younger, but we both know she’s not the one to mess with.
“I’m not touching that.” I laugh and look up in time to see Ashlie whip around the corner. Her golden-brown coils spill from her high ponytail like a fully bloomed bouquet of curls. The freckles over her nose are illuminated by the flushing across her amber cheeks as she scurries into the seat next to me. She heaves a breath like she just ran a mile, eyes so wide they have to hurt. “You good?” I ask.
“Bryan’s here,” Ashlie whispers to the table.
“Who?” I look to Kayla to see if she knows what’s going on.
“Bryan!” Ashlie whisper-screams.
Kayla twists in her seat to look around the room. “Bryan, Bryan?”
“Yes! Don’tlook!” Ashlie hunkers down in her chair like Bryan is some ominous reaper coming to take her soul.
“Oh, Ashy Bryan?” I tease, recalling his nickname from our summer in Fort Bender.
