Page 50 of Best Man Speaking

“Oh, and here I was thinking you were going to tell me how wrong I was and that you were just here to check on me—your favorite sister-in-law ever.”

“Only sister-in-law—to be, I might add.”

She moves over to the espresso machine, not asking what I want but simply going ahead and making what I can assume is my usual order.

“Well, Hallie hasn’t been in here yet today, which is unusual for her.” When I don’t take the bait, she continues. “Do you know what I think?”

“No, but I’m sure there isn’t a lot I can do to stop you from telling me.”

She throws me a quick, dirty look before concentrating back on the shots. “I think you haven’t had this much fun in your own life for an age. Ever since Hallie got here, it’s like you’ve been electrocuted, but in the best way. You’re different with her here, more of an asshole but one that seems to be actually enjoying life.”

She’s not wrong, but before I get the chance to reply, there’s a sudden burst of steam as Erica cleans the wand on the machine before frothing the milk for my coffee. It’s a well-played move on her end since I don’t plan on speaking loud enough to be heard over the noise. She gives me a knowing smirk, and I have no other option than to sit with her words.

“You’re an epic pain in my ass, Erica,” I say when the noise finally subsides.

“But I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Wrong or not, still a pain in the ass. Will you tell me where she is?”

Erica shakes her head and simply puts two to-go cups in front of me. “You’re both so stubborn. Do you know you drink your coffee the same way?”

I don’t say anything. Instead, I pull some bills from my wallet, but she just shakes her head. “Keep in mind, while I won’t be sad to hear you broke rule number six, Jules wants peace, and I would rather you not have a broken nose or black eye in my wedding photos.”

“I’ll do my absolute best to avoid ruining your precious pictures.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Go home, Marcus. She’s in your backyard, but she won’t be there forever.”

Relief wells deep inside my chest as I drop the cash clenched in my palm into the tip jar. “I’m not going to hate having you as a sister, you know.”

Erica nods back. “I know,” she says with a bright smile, utterly self-assured.

I kind of love her for it.

The thought of throwing away the second coffee or simply drinking it myself only makes its way through my head a hundred or so times before I’m home. I want to see her even while knowing the only way this can end is in disaster. But I don’t give myself time to think as I skip my own front door and head for the guest house in the back.

I hear the music before I see her, happy to acknowledge Hallie’s taste is still on the terrible side. I don’t bother knocking on the screen door or calling out; instead, I walk inside to find her sitting on the floor, overalls on and feet bare, surrounded by a multitude of notebooks.

“Thinking of starting a fire?” I ask from the edge of the room, not wanting to scare her.

The candle in the center of the coffee table is large enough to have three wicks. The whole space smells like something sweet I want to eat.

She doesn’t startle at my voice, doesn’t even look up from the open pages in her lap. “Only if you’re inside with the doors locked.”

Shaking my head, I make my way toward her. “How are you so morbid?”

She pops her chin up, finally looking at me. “I don’t know. One too many serial killer podcasts?”

I crouch beside her, gently pulling on a lock of her hair, and she snaps her notebook shut. “Something you don’t want me to see?”

“Something I wish I didn’t have to see,” she says with a small laugh.

I extend her the coffee, and her brows rise.

“For me?” she asks, her shock palpable.

“Erica requested I bring it by. She mentioned she hadn’t seen you at all today.”

“I’ve been a little busy,” she says, motioning to the mess surrounding us.

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