Page 30 of Stick to the Deal
This is normally when I’d throw a pillow at her, but she’s saved by the precious shield.
“So Anna, how was your brother’s wedding? You said you had news in the group chat—I assume you and David made up? Was I right about the makeup sex?” I arch a brow at her.
At the beginning of the summer, Anna’s childhood sweetheart showed up out of the blue. It was a shock for everyone—especially us, since she’d never mentioned him before—but he seemed determined to win her back. The two were pretty cute together until he broke up with her a few weeks ago. Anna figured out he did it in some misguided assumption her life was better off without him and stormed back home to Georgia to knock some sense into him over Labor Day weekend.
Bree laughs as she swaps her empty Tupperware for a giant water bottle.
A slight blush colors Anna’s cheeks. “Everything worked out, the wedding was beautiful, and…” she holds up her left hand where a diamond solitaire glitters in the sunlight streaming through the glass windows. “We’re engaged!”
“Engaged? Isn’t it a little soon?” Bree’s brows pinch in concern.
“Says the woman who moved her boyfriend in with her on day one,” I snark at Bree before turning back to Anna. “You have to admit, broken up to engaged in a weekend sounds a bit fast.”
“Bree married Colin less than a year after meeting, and you agreed to marry some guy you met on an airplane. Seems to be going pretty swell for the both of you.” Anna whisper-yells as she holds the sleeping baby, but sarcasm drips heavily from her tone.
My eyes ping back and forth between my friends as my gut sinks. The ring on my own finger, so far unnoticed, weighs a thousand pounds. “About that. We eloped in Sweden.”
The air is oppressive as I wait for the yellow door to open. My hair sticks to my forehead, but my arms are too full to fix it. How is it still this hot in September? The muggy Florida climate is a harsh contrast to the crisp autumn in New York and downright chilly nights in Sweden.
Where the fuck is everyone?
I juggle the packages as I fumble for my phone to text for help, the door finally opens to reveal Bree’s husband, Colin. “About time, Irish. Where’s my niece? I was ready to lean on the buzzer.” Blessed air conditioning caresses my face as I push past the man and into the cool interior of the stylish home.
“I need to have the damn thing deactivated. The doorbell sets off the dog. When he barks, the baby cries, and when she cries, I think I might too.” He wipesa hand down his face, his typical dimples notably absent. Dark circles accentuate his green eyes and brown hair. Still stupidly handsome, but obviously tired.
“Here.” I shove a package full of Toblerone, English biscuits, and strong tea into his hands. As he studies the contents of the box, his signature dimples finally make an appearance.
Though I’ll never admit it to Colin or the girls, I like the Irishman who earned my best friend’s heart. When he first showed up, I’d been suspicious, but he’s proven himself since then.
Not waiting for a reply—I have a reputation to maintain after all—I sweep down the hall to the living room. On the sofa, Bree sits in a pair of yoga pants and tank top, her wavy, chestnut hair loosely secured in a bun on her head. In her lap rests an open Tupperware container, and she’s shoveling forkfuls of pasta into her mouth and moaning between bites.
After depositing the other gifts on the floor, I turn to my friend. “Christ, Bree, careful of the white couch!” I lean down, kiss her cheek, and squeeze her shoulder.
Waving a fork at my words, Bree answers around another mouthful. “Kid’s already puked on it twice. Not to mention the blowout diapers.” She shudders, then returns to her food. “White couches and babies don’t mix.”
I flop onto the cushion next to her, leaning in to steal a hunk of sausage, only to have my hand stabbed. Laughing, I retreat. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” She chews and looks thoughtful. Like her husband, Bree sports dark circles under her eyes, but where Colin looked stressed, she radiates serenity. “She nurses every two hours like clockwork, so I spend most of my day right here.”
“So if you’re here, and Colin got the door, where’s the baby?”
“Anna’s changing her diaper so I can eat. While Riley supervises, of course.”
I glance around, only now realizing that Bree’s typical shadow, her Yorkie-mix dog, Riley, is absent. “How’s Riley taking the change? I know you were nervous since he’s so attached.”
She chuckles as she finishes another bite. “I think he’s more loyal to her than me at this point. He watches her sleep, even tried to climb into the bassinet with her!” Bree huffs and spears another sausage.
“All clean.” Anna emerges from the hallway, a wriggling pink blanket clutched to her chest. Bree moves to put her food down but Anna walks right past her to the recliner. “You, eat. I’ll cuddle baby Nora for a bit and give you a rest.”
I walk over for a better view. Nestled in the soft blush fabric rests a head haloed in rusty curls. Giant eyes, still a newborn blue, gaze up at Anna—who is makingthe most ridiculous faces. Nora’s little face scrunches up and her lips spread open, showing a gummy smile and a single divot on her chubby cheek.
“Look, she’s smiling!” Anna says between silly expressions.
“Pretty sure that’s just gas. Don’t you have a million little brothers? Why don’t you know that?” At my voice, the baby rolls her head and gives me a wide-eyed, open mouth stare. Sooty lashes blink slowly. Oh, this girl is going to be a heartbreaker.
Watching Irish lose his shit is going to be fantastic.
As if my thoughts summon him, Colin moves to stand behind his wife, resting a hand on her shoulder.
