Page 127 of To Love or to Lose
“That was classy.” Jameson smiles.
Once my laughter dies down, I send him a pointed look. “If that would have been an actual champagne flute, you would have shattered it.”
“And what would have transpired if that happened?” He asks.
“I would have picked up a shard and stabbed you with it,” I deadpan, making him smirk.
“I would expect nothing less.” He grabs the towel Eloise holds out to me, using it to wipe the sticky alcohol off my hand. As he looks in my eyes, he adds, “I assume you know you’ve already pierced my heart.”
I smile as I take the rag from him to finish drying my hand before throwing it at his chest. “Don’t be so cheesy,” I tease softly, making sure no one overhears.
I glance over at the back door, spotting Gwen and Mae in the living room sitting on the couch looking bored—like they wish they could join us.
I walk over toward Logan, seeing that he’s eyeing the same thing. “Do you think we should go inside for cake now?” I ask.
I always feel bad leaving them out when they’re around all of us. That’s why they ended up joining us for pizza earlier, but Logan prohibited them from coming outside.
Mostly because we were going to be drinking, but also because Logan and I don’t want them getting the idea that they’re meant to be hanging out with older kids all the time.
“Yeah.” Logan nods, setting his cup down before telling the other four.
Wren has been waiting all night for this, and by the time we’re sitting around the island—the younger girls included—she and Mr. Callaghan are already entering the kitchen carrying the cake with giant grins.
She sets it in the center of the island, and I can already see the smiles forming on all our faces out of my peripheral vision.
“To celebrate.” Wren smiles. “Allof you.”
“We’re so proud of you all,” Mr. Callaghan adds.
“We’re especially proud of our special addition!” Logan smiles as he grabs Jameson by the shoulders.
I scoff, sarcastically of course, but it still causes Jameson to look at me with a glint of humor in his eyes.
“Maybe notallof us.” Wren laughs, pulling out a knife to cut up the cake.
“You know.” Jameson’s now standing in front of me, grabbing my attention once everyone is engrossed in their own conversations while eating cake “I think you might just be my favorite person here.”
“Even when I act like you’re myleastfavorite person here?” I ask.
“Especially then,” he says, letting his plastic fork dangle from his mouth.
I lean against the back of my barstool, trying not to feel inferior as he towers over me.“How tall are you?” The question comes out before I even think about it. This is a rarity for me, which causes Jameson to smirk.
“Why do you ask?” He runs his hand through his hair, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“Just by looking at your bone structure, height would be an indicator as to what long-term conditions you’re more susceptible to,” I quickly amend, trying to cover my original intent.
“Oh, really?”
I sit up straighter. “Really.”
He leans down, closer to my height, as if he’s trying to stress how much taller than me he is. “I’m six-three.”
“Hm.” I nod.Seven inches. Jameson is a whopping seven inches taller than me. “Interesting.”
“Any underlying conditions you’d like to share?” He asks, as if he knows my excuse was all a ruse.
“None that I can identify at the moment,” I reply. “Besides the obvious narcissism.”
