Page 22 of Almost Perfect
He flashed a smile. “Oh, I’m excellent.”
I snickered, and Wyatt outright laughed.
“Not at all confident, are you War?”
Warrick gave his brother an imperious look. “Only about certain things,” he replied, winking at me.
Shaking my head at his antics, my eye caught Wyatt’s, and we smiled at each other. My stomach swooped low, and immediately, an alarm sounded in my mind. I didn’t need that response to tell me I found Wyatt attractive, but all it’d taken was his sincere apology and kind words earlier, and now my body was shouting the information to all systems, apparently.
“Time to clean up,” Wyatt said, then he took my plate, Jane’s, and Warrick’s. Warrick followed behind, his arms full of serving dishes.
Jane grinned at me. “We get to sit and watch.”
I let out the closest thing to a giggle as I’d made in years. If Jenna had been sitting across from me instead of Jane, she would’ve asked who’d snatched my body and replaced it with this bizarro, giggly version of Calla.
But Jenna wasn’t here, and the evening had worked me over enough to give me freedom to roll with that instead of shrink from it and worry over whether it made me unhinged to be laughing when I’d come here to mourn. I could giggle at this sweet woman’s joke without worrying over my sanity. So, I joined in because the view was certainly excellent. “Works for me.”
The boys clinked around—one rinsing plates, the other dishing leftovers into containers—and I turned back to Jane. “Thanks so much for including me tonight.”
She beamed over at me. “Of course. And forgive the awful, completely inappropriate question, but do you have a boyfriend?”
The water I’d sipped got sucked into the wrong pipe, and I coughed several times before clearing my throat. “No, uh, I don’t.” I glanced toward Wyatt and Warrick, who were thankfully fully engrossed in their clean up and didn’t hear this part of the conversation.
Did I have a boyfriend? Not after all the news, anyway. We’d called it off, knowing any more connection between us would only hurt Brian. I didn’t want that. Despite his kind offer to stick out the crapstorm, we’d officially ended our public relationship.
Privately, we’d never actually been together anyway, but that didn’t need to be a part of this conversation.
The Cheshire cat grin Jane gave me then was almost predatory, but she had such a sweet face, it was hard to see it that way. I needed to squash this little idea while I could.
“I’m not really in the market, though. I just had a bad breakup.”
Was it considered a bad breakup when the media declares you’ve cheated on your fake popstar boyfriend who you haven’t actually seen in months and had, in fact, never kissed anywhere but his cheek? One of the headlines had said something likeMayhem Trashes Boyfriend Bri’s Hopes with Clandestine Meetings: Inside the Cheater’s Moves.Thank goodness Brian “Bri” Williamson and I were friends, or I’d feel even worse about the whole thing.
But the world didn’t have all the details, and the way the papers had reported it was certainly more salacious than a more accurate story likePopstar Meets with Manager, Drinks Decaf, While Fake Boyfriend Lives His Life.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
She pressed her lips together, but the energy in her body reminded me of Warrick’s in that it seemed barely contained and like she still had something to say. Sure enough, then she went on.
“I’ll just say this once. All three of my boys are the best of men. And assuming not everything I’ve read is true, then you should keep them in mind. Well… these two, anyway.”
My eyes shifted to Wyatt and Warrick in the kitchen, both occupied with their duties but clearly joking and chatting quietly too. I wished the water from the sink didn’t drown out the low tones of their exchange. It didn’t seem like either of them had put her up to this, nor did I think that was likely. Warrick struck me as a guy who’d just say what he wanted to say, and Wyatt… I didn’t know about Wyatt for sure, but I suspected he didn’t have any trouble finding a date.
“Thank you. Do you mind if I ask… There’s a third?”
She smiled.
“Wilder. He’s…” Her face sobered and her eyes clouded. “He’s been gone a long time. Army. But he won’t be able to avoid us too much longer because he retires in less than two years, and I know he’s always planned to come back here. So I suppose you may not meet him, though he’s due for a visit sometime soon.”
Wilder.Wyatt, Warrick, and Wilder.That made three W names, but the first two suited the men so well, so I imagined Wilder was somehow right on too. He sounded intriguing, that was for sure. “He’s retiring from the Army already? Is he the oldest?”
She smiled again. “No. He’s the middle child, poor thing. Wyatt’s oldest, Warrick’s youngest, and Wilder falls between—two years younger than Wyatt.”
“You talking about our wayward brother?” Warrick asked from where he leaned against the kitchen island a few feet away. Wyatt still stood at the sink, dutifully scrubbing serving plates.
“Yes. Don’t start in on him now, though. I’m trying to make sure Calla isn’t scared away by you brutish boys. Talk of Wilder isn’t going to do much for us.”
Warrick made apshhsound.
