Page 142 of A Very Merry Mistake

“What about the broody type with a broken past?” Claire asks.

“Check,” Emma says, smirking.

“Wait, how old are you?” I look between her and Claire.

“Twenty-nine.”

I suck air between my teeth. “Mmm. Hudson might be too old for you.”

“Oh, that’s your older brother, right? How old is he—forty?”

“No, but close.”

“Perfect,” she says, giving me a side hug. “Might have to swing on by, then.”

“She would be a handful,” I say to Claire, who nods.

“Yes, she would. However, you really should visit soon,” Claire urges, hugging her again. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you, too. So go ahead, spill it. Tell me what the big news is that I have to hear from your mouth before I go out tonight,” Emma says.

Claire grabs the paperwork from the bar where she left it earlier and hands it to her sister. She scans over it, flips it to the last page, and her hand flies to her mouth. The papers fall to the ground, but luckily, the paperclip keeps them together.

“I had no idea,” she whispers.

“I didn’t, either,” Claire says. “You probably have the same thing waiting for you.”

She turns and looks at me. “Your older brother want to get hitched?”

The three of us land into a fit of laughter. The thought is completely ridiculous.

“I think the reason our father didn’t want us to know is because he wanted to make sure we were getting married for the right reasons.”

She gasps. “Did you two elope? If you did, I’ll be so pis—”

“No,” Claire says, placing her hand on her shoulder. “Not yet.”

Now I’m laughing, but I wrap my arm around her waist. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

“Oh my God. You two are as cute as the tabloids say,” Emma gushes. “Please take a picture with me and let me post it on my socials.”

“No,” Claire snaps. “Do you know how many people already want to steal him from me because of you?”

Emma playfully raises her hand, and Claire slaps it. “Just kiddin’. I want that broody brother, though. I do love a chase,” Emma tells her.

Claire asks her what her plans are tonight, and Emma talks about some swanky party she’s attending. Celebrities and runway models will be in attendance.

“Call me if you need anything,” Claire says. “And text me when you get home.”

“Okay, okay. Can we at least have a glass of champagne before I go?” Emma asks, crossing the room in her high heels. They click across the marble floor.

I laugh.

“What?” Emma turns and looks at me.

“You two and your impractical footwear.”

Emma playfully rolls her eyes as Claire passes out flutes to us. “I can run in these just like Beyoncé.”

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