Page 97 of Unbreakable
I shook my head. “I really do not know what you have up your sleeve. Are we about to get matching tattoos? We should really eat if that’s what we’re doing.”
Dylan finally laughed. “Not tattoos.”
A few minutes later, we pulled into a popular brunch spot in the trendy neighborhood adjacent to ours. “Ooh, fancy breakfast?”
He took my hand as we walked in. “Sorrento?” he asked at the host stand.
“Right this way.”
We entered a back area with a giant booth, which was stuffed with Dylan’s teammates and their wives. We were greeted by a big “HEY!” and applause. I jumped back, laughing. I did not expect a gaggle of people to be excited by our arrival.
“They’re here!”
“Thanks for getting us a spa day, Jeanine!” Lacey shouted.
Dylan looked at Lacey with dagger eyes. “She doesn’t know yet!”
“Eep! Forget I said anything. We’re so glad you’re here!”
I turned to Dyl. “I’m going on a spa day?”
“Surprise!” he said with a wince.
I saw what he meant about it being relaxing but also maybe not. I didn’t know this group of women well, so that’s the not-relaxing part. But Jessie’s words rang in my head: “Just go one by one.”
I liked Lacey. I liked Christine. I loved Mara. That’s three of the five. That just left Greer, who was dating the goalie, Harlan Royce, and Erica Garner. They were two of the people talking shit about me at the Halloween party, but I was willing to forgive and forget in the name of group harmony.
Dylan squeezed my hand, and I realized I’d been semi-zoned out with a big smile plastered on my face. I turned to him and planted a kiss on him, getting more cheers from his friends. “Thank you. I love it.”
He patted my butt and gave me another kiss. “I loveyou.”
“You old flirt,” I joked.
He guided me to a seat and everyone shifted so we could sit together. I slid in next to Mara.
“Hi! I’m so sorry I haven’t called you. I feel bad,” I said to her, tapping the table between us. “How have you been?”
She was just starting to wave me off when the server approached. “Do we have a bride and groom here?”
I glanced around the table and realized she meant Dylan and I were getting married.
“Who, me? Oh, no. Together eight years. Three kids. All that’s behind us.”
“I’d still marry her again, though,” Dylan said.
I gave him a light shove. “You schmooze.”
Breakfast was loud and boisterous, with the guys leading some jokes and their partners giving it back just as hard. Mara and I were both quieter, both of us the newest additions to the group. Just like they had at the Halloween party, Mara and Jack touched constantly. Jack’s hand stayed on her: toying with her fingers under the table, putting his hand on her knee, putting his arm around her shoulder.
Instead of feeling sad like I had when I saw them touching on Halloween, I could look at how far Dylan and I had already come. His hand was on my knee under the table too, and I leaned into him so we were nestled together in the booth.
“Pickles is making us all look bad,” Lindberg said. “He fucks up, and he launches a five-part groveling adventure.”
“Yeah, where’s my plan?” Christine asked.
“You told them about The Plan?” I asked.
“I did, but I didn’t leak it to the wives,” Dyl said, putting his hand up.
