Page 68 of The Game Plan
I nod with a smile. “This is perfect.”
“And,” she says, reaching into the bag again, “a lemon streusel muffin. I grabbed one for myself because they looked hella good.”
My eyes sting at her sweet gesture—thinking of my food restrictions and even springing for my favorite treat. We fall into an easy silence as I flick through channels, settling onHouse Hunters. Bret’s easy to be around—funny without trying too hard, caring in a way that somehow surprises me, even though it shouldn’t.
“So…” she starts slowly, brushing crumbs off her lap, “how are you really doing?”
Crumpling the sandwich wrapper, I brush crumbs off my bump and angle toward her. This isn’t our first deep conversation—we’ve walked and talked about Tierney before—but this one feels heavier, especially since it’s about her brother.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I admit. She nods like she understands. “I’m not going to lie; I was angry last night when he dropped the bomb, but as we talked, the anger slipped away. If it were anyone else—any other guy—there’s no way I’d agree to this charade, or…whatever this is now. But with Grant, the decision was easy.”
“That makes total sense. I’m happy he has you.”
Before she can respond, my phone buzzes on the coffee table. Ridge’s name flashes across the screen. Last night, I texted him, letting him know Grant and I were getting married. Told him it was a long story, but I’m happy. I was afraid the media would catch wind of the marriage, and I wanted him to hear it from me. He tried calling, of course. The man never sleeps, and two a.m. his time means nothing. But I was too tired to get into it.
I sigh. “I have to take this.”
Bret arches an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
Lips pursed, I nod. “It’s my overprotective cousin. I need to fill him in.”
“I’m here if you need backup,” she says sympathetically.
I swipe to answer, and Ridge’s face fills the screen—brow tight, eyes sharp, cigarette dangling from his mouth. A vintage beer poster hangs behind him, his usual spot—the so-called “clubhouse” with his crew.
“Hey,” I start, flashing a warm smile even though I’m low key shitting myself.
“Tell me this isn’t real.” I cringe at his tone, looking over at Bret, who sits there with her coffee like she’s about to watch a Bravo reunion show.
I sigh. “It’s real. We’re actually doing it today at City Hall. It’s…a long story.”
His jaw tenses as he sucks in a lungful of nicotine. Pulling the cigarette from his lips between his fingers, his hands dive into his cropped hair. “I don’t get it. You in trouble? Tell me, you know, if you’re in real trouble. I’d take care of it.”
I nod. “I know you would. This isn’t like that. I want this, Ridge. I really do.”
He must hear the sincerity in my voice as his features soften. “He'd better know what he’s doing. He better take care of my girls.”
I chuckle. Always so gruff with him. “He knows. Besides, if he doesn’t, I’ll make sure he knows what’s up.”
“That’s my Savvy.” He tosses me a wink. “Us Holycrosses don’t take shit from anyone.”
“I’ll send pictures.”
“You better.” A resigned breath fills the line. “I can’t believe I’m missing your wedding, but I want you to know I’m damn proud of you. And I’ll always be a flight away.”
“Love you, Ridge.”
“Love you, too, Savvy,” he grumbles, never one to throw out the ‘L’ word often.
We end the call, and I let my shoulders sag. “That went better than I thought.”
“He’s hot,” Bret states matter-of-factly.
I snort. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”
She rolls her eyes. “I was giving your cousin a compliment.” Smacking her thighs, she stands. “Come with me.”
I groan and let her pull me from my spot. She guides us around the sectional to where a garment bag lays over the back of the barstool. I didn’t even notice her bring one in. My heart lodges somewhere between my ribs.
