Page 252 of Love in Riverbend
“I never met him,” Devan says.
Jill responds, “You aren’t missing much. Real douchebag.”
“Did you tell Ricky about Bryce?”
“I told Ricky that Bryce asked me to the dinner, but there is nothing between us.” A smile comes to my lips. “Seeing the two of them side by side makes me wonder what I ever saw in Bryce.”
Devan shakes her head. “Still my brother.”
“Now,” Jill says, “tell me about numbers two, three, and four.”
It’s my turn to shake my head. “Nope. I’ll just say that he’s a lot better than before. A whole lot.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that you’re more experienced,” Jill says, lifting her glass.
“It’s not like I have an extensive list, but of the few…” I let out a long sigh. “I could get used to Ricky.”
“This is awesome,” Devan says. “You could become my sister.”
“I’m not making any predictions.”
Devan stands and lifts her glass. “I am. I predict a summer wedding.”
Jill stands in alliance. “To a summer wedding.”
“Come on,” they both say, encouraging me to stand.
I lift my glass. “To not getting my heart broken.”
We all clink glasses.
Chapter 21
Marilyn
Sunday morning, Devan, Justin, Ricky, and I sit around Devan’s kitchen table, talking and laughing in a way that seems too good to be true. It’s casual and comfortable, the men in their nylon shorts and T-shirts, and Devan and me in our pajamas with our hair pulled back in ponytails. For the two of us, it’s like when we lived together. Sunday mornings were always our together time.
Unlike in our apartment in Muncie, it’s not only the two of us. Every now and then, Ricky reaches out, squeezing my knee or taking my hand. Together, Devan and I made a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes.
Justin adds another stack of pancakes to his plate.
“How many is that?” Ricky asks, leaning back with his coffee mug.
“I’m not counting, asshole,” Justin replies with a smile. “I remember you out-eating me at every meal.”
Ricky pushes his plate away from the edge of the table. “Those days are over. Sitting at a desk doesn’t burn enough calories to eat like that.”
Devan laughs. “We both like to cook, and it’s good to know it will be eaten.”
“You cook?” Ricky asks Justin.
“Yeah. I bet you do too, or you’re starving in that apartment.”
“I cook,” Ricky admits, “but not well. Eating out all the time gets old and expensive.” He turns to me. “Do you cook?”
“Is this a deal-breaker?” I ask with a grin, lifting my coffee mug to my lips. “You made me breakfast yesterday. I could get used to that.”
“Deal. I cook breakfast and you cook dinner.”
