Clover sighs, hitting the speaker button and letting the phone drop back onto the bed between us. “Rhy, this better be life or death because I feel like I got hit by a truck full of tequila, a bucket of salt, and a supermarket worth of limes.”
“Clover Marie Cadell!” Rhyan’s voice explodes through the speaker, so loud that I wince and instinctively reach for the gun under my pillow.Old habits.“What theactual FUCKis happening on your Instagram right now?”
Clover sits up so fast it makes her head spin—I can tell by the way she immediately grabs her temples. “What are you talking about?” she groans, her face instantly turning pale like she wants to puke.
I rub her back for her, knowing exactly how she feels.
We definitely drank too much last night, and I know that’s probably affecting her sugar levels this morning. So I slide out of bed to get her a juice box.
“Your Instagram! The posts from last night? Are youseriouslygoing to tell me you gotmarriedin Vegas anddidn’tthink to mention it to your best friend?”
I pause at the refrigerator, my eyes wide, whatever color was left drains from Clover’s face as she stares at her phone. “Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh—”
“So it’sreal?”Rhyan shrieks, and I have to resist the urge to cover my ears. “You actually married Phoenix? In Vegas? By Elvis? With celebrities as your witnesses.”
I grab the juice and rush back to bed while Clover scrambles for her phone, frantically scrolling through her Instagram feed. Her eyes go wide as she sees what Rhyan is talking about.
Photographs of us from last night.
The chapel.
The rings.
Cedar and Meadow.
Us looking ridiculously happy and drunk on love and champagne.
All of it.
Posted for the world to see.
For her brother to damn-well see.
“Fuck,” she murmurs, her hangover forgotten in the face of panic. “I posted all of this? When did I… oh, God, I remember now. After we got back to the penthouse, before we came home to—” She cuts herself off, her cheeks suddenly flushing pink.
I lean over to look at the phone screen, and there we are, Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Looking drunk and happy and completely fucking smitten with each other. The pictures are actually beautiful, capturing something real and raw between us. But they’re also evidence of what we did. Evidence that Maverick is going to see.
“Clover,” Rhyan’s voice comes through the speaker again, softer now. “This is real, isn’t it? Youreallymarried him?”
Clover looks at me, and I see the exact moment she decides not to lie.
Not to make excuses or pretend it was just Vegas madness.
“Yeah,” she says, looking down at the cactus ring on her finger. A slow smile spreads across her face, like the memories are flooding back. “Yeah, it’s real.”
“Oh. My. God!”Rhyan screams so loud that we both wince. “I can’t believe yo—” She cuts herself off. “Wait! Has Maverick seen these yet?”
The smile disappears from Clover’s face instantly as my stomach clenches in anxiety. “What do you mean, has he seen them? How would I know if he—”
“Because I’ve been stalking your Instagram since five this morning, trying to figure out if this was real or if you’ve been hacked by someone with a really fucked-up sense of humor. If I can see them, he can see them. And you know your brother checks your social media like it’s his damn job.”
“Shit,” Clover grumbles, already moving to start deleting the posts. “Shit, shit, shit—”
“Wait!” Rhyan interrupts. “I’m guessing he hasn’t seen them yet. I haven’t seen him or Sadie in the main room this morning. I’m guessing they’re still asleep. I know Sadie was having some stomach issues last night, so they were up late.”
I sit taller hearing my sister is in trouble. “What the fuck, Rhy. Lead with that. What kind of stomach issues? Is the baby okay?”
Clover’s eyes meet mine, both of us tensing.
