Hitched(51)

“Uh, thanks?” Ryan says to Clint, who straightens like he didn’t just put the fear of god into our eldest brother’s pet raccoon.

“He needs boot camp.” Clint points at the destroyed cupcakes. “And this disaster stays in the family. No one needs to know the sins committed against dessert here tonight. Especially Cupcake.”

Ryan arches a brow. “Cupcake?”

“The cupcake girl. Woman.” Clint stammers, a rare crack appearing in his infamous composure before he insists in a firmer voice, “So we’ll eat what’s left of these, and no one breathes a word.”

Ryan, Jace, and I share a look, and we all crack up all over again.

“I prefer my dessert without raccoon fur in it, thanks,” I say, inspiring an “amen” from Jace and a nod from Ryan.

“Why don’t we all pretend this didn’t happen, and I’ll go whip up a box cake inside?” Ryan turns to call over his shoulder, “Mom? You got that devil’s food kind Blake loves?”

“Yep. And caramel topping and whipped cream so you can make a Better than Sex cake,” she giggles before toasting us all again. “To Better than Sex cake!”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll come help you!” Cassie leaps to her feet. She and Ryan lock gazes over the table, laughing softly as they pile trash into the destroyed cupcake box, sharing some private joke before they take off inside.

As the door shuts behind them, Hope sighs. “They’re adorable.”

“Adorably disgusting,” Jace replies with a grin.

It’s so weird to see him so happy, but it’s good too. He’s been like this since he and Olivia got married, and I’m thrilled for both of them.

Hope rubs my back and takes another taco.

“Ah, just using me for the food?” I tease.

“Yes, and sex,” she murmurs for my ears only, making me chuckle.

“Texas Hold’em or five card draw?” Clint, the lone bachelor brother left, plops down at the table with a deck of cards he pulls from his back pocket. “Chewpaca. You in, dude?”

Chewy hums and nods.

Hope giggles at their interaction. “I love how normal and down-to-earth your family is.”

“Al-poker!” Mom and Pop cry together, then burst into giggles, making all of us laugh too.

“Well, down to earth anyway,” I say, kissing her forehead, loving that she likes my crazy family the way they are.

And me the way I am.

“Growing up must have been fun,” she says, a wistful note in her voice.

“Most days. Unless Ryan was being a prick about making the rest of us do our chores, or Jace was getting in trouble, or Clint was getting struck by lightning.”

She laughs, but then stops. “Wait. For real?”

Clint points to a spot on his head where his hair grows in white if he lets it get long enough. “Only patch of scared I got on me.”

“So you’re surrounded by electrical freaks?” she asks me.

“You’re not a freak.” I wrap an arm around her and kiss her head. “Clint, maybe, but not you. You’re a gorgeous, sexy, big-hearted, animal-loving woman.”

“It’s so good to see you two together,” Olivia says, twining a lock of her long blond hair dreamily around her finger. “You star charts are so compatible in the long term, but it looked like there might be a few bumps in the road early on. I’m so glad you’ve come through whatever your troubles were.”

“Thanks,” I say, because Olivia is a sweetheart without a mean bone in her body.

And because she’s right.

We’re not all the way there, but we’re getting closer.

At least I think we are.

I glance down at my wife, but Hope isn’t shooting me a but one day we’ll break their hearts glances. She’s smiling and stealing the lettuce from one of my tacos, which she slips to Chewy before he can start nibbling on Olivia’s dress.

I think my bride is finally finding her own hope.





Twenty-One





Hope





* * *



It’s a miracle.

I’m at my husband’s bachelor party, with electric bug lamps buzzing around the table and lights strung overhead, and not a single one of them is flickering as I stare down Clint in the final hand of the night.

Half of Ryan’s Better than Sex cake, a five-dollar bill, a bottle of wine from Blake’s very first crop, a roll of quarters for the arcade games at Jace’s bar, and one of the raccoon babies are in the pot, though probably the raccoon baby won’t actually go home with the winner, since Ryan and Cassie are both out, and none of us have any intention of breaking up George’s family.

Mr. and Mrs. O’Dell went to bed tipsy an hour ago, and Olivia is leaned back in a deck chair, lightly snoring with Clover tucked into her sling and also lightly snoring.

Blake’s right beside me, arm around me, whispering all the naughty things he wants to do to me when we get home, and making Clint think he’s whispering ways to cheat at poker.

I have a half-bottle of wine in me, and everything is happy.

Fun.

Perfect.

Exactly what a night with good friends should be.

Except these aren’t just my friends.