Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(51)

“Oh my heavens,” Mrs. Ryder murmurs with a smile. “I can only imagine what her bridal gown will look like.”

We meet up with them two shops down from Anchovies. Ellie’s still not with them.

Neither is the Blond Caveman.

A slither of unease works its way down my spine. Not because I’m worried Ellie still has feelings for him, but because I don’t trust him.

Especially when Mrs. Dixon’s face lights up at the sight of the Ryders. “Michelle! Christopher! How lovely to see you both again.”

She leans in for cheek kisses with Mrs. Ryder and to embrace Mr. Ryder.

Behind her back, Monica rolls her eyes so hard her tongue sticks out, and I realize maybe I’m not so bad.

All I want is a little love and acceptance.

These people, though—they’re in it for the social status.

“How is the environmental business?” Mr. Dixon asks, engaged for the first time all week.

Mr. Ryder shakes his hand. “Good, good.”

“You know our bank will be more than happy to help you out anytime you want to get out of that old neighborhood you’re still living in. Upstanding family like yours should be in a house fitting your station.”

Jason sighs.

Even Sloane seems surprised.

“We could never leave our home, but thank you,” Mrs. Ryder informs them. She easily executes a side-step to hug Monica. “You look beautiful, sweetie. We’re so happy for you two.”

“I’m so glad you came,” she replies.

When Mrs. Ryder turns to Monica’s mom, I lean closer to the bride. “Where’s Ellie?”

She points to a bench at the edge of the park, then frowns. “I think we pushed her too hard this week. She’s limping. I told her to stay there, but—”

“Is she okay?” I ask at the same time Mr. Ryder asks, “But where is she now?”

“Miss Ellie kissed my daddy,” Tucker announces.

Festival-goers keep passing by, a band of pirates leaps out into the middle of the street for an impromptu swordfight, and complete silence descends inside our group while the Ryders turn to look at me.

It’s not that I didn’t know this was coming.

Ever since the moment Ellie informed me that I owed her for ruining her wedding date, I’ve known I’d have to face her parents.

Her brother.

Our friends.

Explain it to Tucker.

“Oh, Wyatt!” Suddenly, Mrs. Ryder is squeezing me tight. “Oh, this is wonderful.”

Mr. Ryder’s grinning at me, and I’ve never felt so loved while hating myself quite so much at the same time, because soon enough we’ll have to stage a break-up, and I don’t know the next time I’ll be able to look any of them in the eye.

“We should go find her,” I say gruffly.

“Absolutely,” Mr. Ryder agrees. He pulls his phone out and dials, and we all listen while the ringing rolls to voicemail.

Ellie’s safe here. She can take care of herself, and the locals know her well enough that if she gets into trouble, or gets hurt, they’ll be right at her side. She probably had to find a bathroom.

Or she went for banana pudding.

But the Blond Caveman is missing too.

I scan the square with its upturned dirt and more festival-goers digging for gold, the benches around it, up and down the sidewalk, but I don’t spot her.

“Tucker, you want to hang with me?” Monica asks him, like she knows I’m about to head off to find her.

“Is that your real hair?” Tucker asks.

She nods and squats in her huge colonial princess dress, tilting her ringlets at him. “It sure is. Want to touch it?”

I don’t want to leave him here. I have no idea what the Ryders will think of me when this week’s over, and so I’m clinging to the one thing I know I’ll still have.

But he drops my hand to inspect Monica’s hair, and somebody needs to find Ellie.

Mr. Ryder inclines his head back toward the Crusty Nut. I nod and take off into the dug-up square and toward the bench Ellie was last seen sitting on.

I’ve barely passed the back edge of the building to my left when I hear voices.

Familiar voices.

“Why are you doing this to me?” the Blond Caveman demands.

“It’s not about you, Patrick. This week is about Jason. And Monica.”

“I meant shoving that asshole in my face.”

There’s a beat of silence before Ellie asks, “What are you talking about?”

“You, all over that jerkoff friend of your brother’s.”

I turn the corner and spot them. He’s blocking her against a dumpster, and I’m about to say something when Ellie speaks.

“Your insecurities and delusions are not my problem. You don’t get an opinion here. Now move.”

“You’re not listening to me—”

“And I don’t have to. We’re done. We’ve been done. Your opinion has no bearing on my life. Shut up and let me go.”

“I’d do what she’s asking,” I interrupt. “She has a mean right hook.”

I don’t add so do I, because I don’t actually make a habit of punching people, so all I have are gut instincts and the overwhelming desire to protect and defend what’s mine.