Page 106 of The One Night Dash
Moretti slides the ring on her finger, stands, and pulls her in for a hug.
The Icehouse is bedlam—cheers shaking the walls, people stomping, Claudia crying into Moretti’s chest while everyone around us raises glasses and yells to the rafters. It’s one of those moments you want to bottle up forever.
And then it shatters.
A shriek rips through the crowd—Briar’s voice, unmistakable and already pitched to nuclear. I whip my head just in time to see her launching herself into a knot of women at the edge of the bar. Hair flying, chairs scraping, drinks toppling.
“Oh no,” Celeste groans. “Here we go.”
Rick—bless him—is already in the fray, trying to peel Briar back, but she’s flailing like an untamed animal, heels kicking, hands clawing, mouthgoing.
“Late-term abortions!” she bellows as Rick hauls her half sideways. “Old bitches with cave-size crotches?—”
The crowd gasps, half-horror, half-entertainment, and I lose it. I’m doubled over, laughter tearing out of me in gasps I can’t stop.
Briar’s still at it, her hair wild, her fists windmilling as she keeps yelling, even while Rick’s got her practically thrown over his shoulder. “Bitches pulling out my hair ’cause they can’t afford extensions! ’Cause their broke asses are blowing all their cash on a rotation of morning after pills and STD meds!”
A slap cracks in the mess, and someone shoves her back, but she doesn’t stop. “That’s right, honey; better hit me while you still got a free hand between doses!”
People are shouting, some trying to break it up, others egging it on, and I’m crying with laughter when I get railed from behind. That doesn’t stop me from laughing. Hell, it makes it even more hilarious, and tears are rolling down my cheeks when I right myself and turn to see who shoved me.
“Oh, honey, you overdid the glitter.”
A drink splashes in my face as she screams, “Sterling seemed to like it!”
Why does that make me laugh harder? I don’t know, but it does.
“Bless your heart.”
Dash is suddenly at my side, placing me in front of him and steering us toward the door. “All right, trouble,” he mutters, arm firm around my waist. “You’re not going down in a pile of hair extensions and herpes jokes.”
I’m still laughing, still craning around him to watch Rick wrestle Briar toward the door as she keeps hurling insults like grenades.
“You can’t silence me! Cave crotch! You’re a busted, old, bitter-ass bunny! Own it!”
Dash just shakes his head, half-smiling despite himself, as he drags me out of the mess. “You’re loving this way too much.”
I wheeze out a laugh, clutching his arm. “Because she’s not wrong!”
Within minutes,Dash’s SUV is loaded to capacity with our combined families. Rick and Dash both stand guard by Sofie’s vehicle as her camera crew wraps up, dealing with the bunnies and the wide-eyed “witnesses” who got more show than they bargained for. Inside the Icehouse, our team is undoubtedly smoothing things over with the owner.
In here, though? It’s almost silent.
Almost.
Dash’s mom lifted her hand like a schoolteacher to stop Briar mid-rant, which worked … kind of. My brothers are both choking on their own laughter, trying not to burst out laughing, which makes it worse because the sound is unmistakable. Then Celeste loses it.
“Celeste, that’s enough,” Serena says calmly, like she’s seen this circus before.
“That hooker said Claudia’s baby should have been an abortion,” Celeste replies just as calmly.
I bury my face in Dash’s jersey because, honestly, I thought Dash meeting my family in full Turkey Trot costumes was peak insanity. Nope. This topped it.
“They’re not hookers,” Caleb says, grin creeping up. “Hookers are professional women. They’re just hoes.”
That does me in. I’m shaking, laughing into the fabric, while Mom tries to scold him, but she breaks, too, snorting behind her hand.
“To be fair,” Ethan chimes in, voice way too casual, “maybe they’re just trying to get theirs.”
