Page 78 of Love You, Mean It
“No one is here but the three of us.” Blakely hiccuped once again. “And I love that he doesn’t want a one and done with you. Our little Vi is growing up.”
I flicked a piece of pancake at her. “We’re just taking it one day at a time. It’ll probably be over by tomorrow.”
“Why are you so doom and gloom about it? You know you like him,” Blakely said, her brows arched.
Montana sighed dramatically. “She doesn’t want to like him. Because if she likes him, he could hurt her. She’s been let down by one too many people in her life.”
“Thank you, Sigmund Freud, for sharing the inner workings of my psyche.” I rolled my eyes. “I just don’t like to expect things from people. I prefer to count on myself.”
“I’ve never let you down, have I?” my bestie asked.
“No. But you’re a woman. And a rare gem.” I smiled as I reached for my water.
“And it took you the entire first year in college to finally put your guard down with me. Not everyone is going to let you down.” She leaned her head on my shoulder before continuing. “I just love you so much, and I want you to know how easy it is to love you.”
“Oh boy. Someone has had one too many glasses of bubbly,” I said over my laughter.
“I’ve never let you down either, have I?” Blakely asked, her eyes wet with emotion now.
“Do not start crying. Why are you both getting weepy? I’m not upset. And no, you haven’t let me down. You two would be in the small group of humans I love who are not assholes.”
“There’s a lot of us out there, Vi.” Montana sat up, and tears ran down her face. “You just have shitty parents and an asshole sister. And a bad track record of ex-boyfriends. But otherwise—”
“Otherwise, what? That’s kind of a lot. And stop crying. You’re making things weird.” I wiped her face with my napkin just as Myles walked in.
“Oh boy. Someone is three sheets to Emoville,” he said, winking at his girl.
“Emoville. You stole that from me,” I gasped.
“Hey, I’m hip on the wedding lingo. What can I say?” He shrugged. “Why are they both crying?”
“Cheap champagne and childhood trauma. You know, girl stuff.” I glanced up as the door opened, and Harper came running toward our table.
“Vi, I got to do Daddy’s makeup! Wait till you see him.” She climbed right up on the booth and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I missed you.”
She missed me.
I missed her.
“I missed you too, Harps.” I hugged her tight as my gaze moved to the large man walking toward the table.
Broad shoulders. Long legs closing the distance. And that’s when I saw it.
Blue glitter covered his eyelids.
Dark blush was on the apple of his cheeks.
And his hair was pulled back into two tiny pigtails on top of his head.
“What the hell is happening here?” Myles gaped at him.
“Hey. Earmuffs, dude. Harps is sitting right there,” Charlie grumped.
“So, calling you out for looking like you’re about to step onto a Broadway stage is offensive to Harper?” Myles asked.
“No. You can’t say ‘hell’ in front of a kid,” Harper said, shaking her head at him.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t know ‘hell’ was a bad word.” He shrugged.
