I hate the way my head whips and the frantic “What?” that leaves my lips. But worst of all? I dropped my nacho chip.
My eyes trail the rink on TV, and I find Garrett without hesitation. He’s tall and broad as he floats around the ice, right before he crashes into Carter from behind, shoving him into the boards. It’s followed quickly by Emmett crushing both of them to the boards and Adam dog-piling on top when they sink to the ice, and I’m too annoyed with the group of women two rows up to find it cute.
Marry me, Andersen!
Can I handle your stick, G Baby?
“Stupid. Those are stupid signs. They’re not even creative.” I nab the pack of Swedish Berries off the coffee table, tear it open, and dump half the contents into my mouth. “Handle his stick? Whatever. What does that even mean? Handle his stick.” I snort. “Whatever.”
“You’ve said that twice,” Cara murmurs.
“No I haven’t.”
“You did, actually,” Olivia observes, eye cocked as she examines me.
I shake my head, looking back to the TV. Terrible timing; one of the women has made her way down to the boards, and my brother seems to be facilitating conversation between her and Garrett.
“Pee.” I rocket to my feet. “I have to pee. In the toilet. Excuse me.” I’m turning into the man who fingerbangs me straight to heaven. Highly embarrassing.
I stay in there for five minutes, until I’m sure I’m safe to return. When I do, I glue on my best carefree smile, pick up my plate of Pop-Tarts, and squeeze myself back between my friends, both of whom steal a Pop-Tart from my tray.
“Tell Garrett thanks for the Pop-Tarts.”
It’s not Cara who says it. It’s Olivia.
“I’m hot.”
“We love a self-aware queen,” Cara murmurs into my hair. “Yes, Jennie, you’re gorgeous.”
“No, I mean, physically I feel like I’m on fire.”
I’m currently sandwiched between two women—one tiny and pregnant, the other tall and lanky—who have decided to make me their bedtime bitch for the night. Those were Cara’s words. Olivia told me she simply missed snuggling with her husband. She’d already told me she hadn’t been sleeping well without Carter, and the dark circles under her eyes were proof.
So when she held up a pair of pajamas, gave me that pouty face, and asked me to stay the night, I couldn’t say no. Cara said if Olivia got to sleep with someone, so did she. Now here we are, the three of us snuggled together in one outrageously large bed, after a FaceTime call with Carter, Garrett, Emmett, Adam, and Jaxon that lasted way too long and had Carter asking Olivia to sneak off alone to the bathroom once, and Cara and Emmett actually sneaking off.
“It’s me,” Olivia says on a sigh. “I’m hot all the time. I’m like a furnace. I can’t turn it off.” She pops up on her elbow, eyes dancing in the moonlight. “Hey, remember when Carter bought me a furnace when we started dating because mine was broken and he didn’t want me to be cold?”
“He’s so ostentatious.”
“He does love his big gestures. But he’s so thoughtful.” Another sigh, this one happy, and Olivia flops back down on the mattress and shoves one leg between mine, snuggling closer and upping my body temperature another ten degrees. “You Becketts are the very best at snuggling.”
The full, content feeling that hums in my chest makes me smile. “Cara, I wouldn’t have expected you to be so snuggly.”
“Oh, I’m a sprawler. Yeah, I like to get right on top of Emmett and just give up for the night. Can’t tell you how many times that guy’s woken up with his head tangled between my legs, and not for the right reasons.”
I snicker, and my mind coasts to Garrett. I’ve fallen asleep wrapped around him countless times, woken up in the middle of the night to his head between my legs for the right reasons. But without fail, I wake up alone each morning, trying to remember the way his warm body felt locked around mine, the feel of his fingertips drifting over my back, his lips sliding along my shoulder.
My forever has been a lonely one so far. I hadn’t realized the weight of the emptiness until Garrett filled it so effortlessly, lifting everything heavy off my shoulders, my chest, letting me stand taller and breathe deeper.
The night is quiet and still around us, the soft sound of steady breathing in my ear, the gentle rise and fall of chests on either side of me, and I sit in the silence, the love, basking in it.
A pair of arms squeeze around me, and when I open my eyes, I find Olivia’s dark ones gazing sleepily at me.
“What’s up, Pip?”
“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispers, and there’s something heavy and vulnerable in her voice, something on the verge of broken. “I don’t want you to go to Toronto when you graduate, and I feel so selfish for that.” The moonlight streaking through the balcony doors slices across the single tear that peels away across the bridge of her nose. “I want you to be successful, and most of all, I want you to be happy. But, God, I don’t want you to have to leave to do it.”
I think Cara’s asleep, but she tangles her fingers with mine. “We’ll always be together, no matter where we are. But it’s always a bonus when we don’t have to be far.”
And maybe forever doesn’t need to be lonely. It sure doesn’t feel that way with these people surrounding me.
Cara had this fun idea.
I use the word fun loosely, of course.
She woke us up this morning by ripping us apart, grinning down at us like some sort of deranged convict who’d just found her next victims.
Let’s make the boys work for us, she’d said with a maniacal giggle.
Apparently, that meant getting dressed up, leaving the house right before the boys landed so that they returned to an empty house instead of a full one where we were supposed to be waiting to welcome them home after a long stretch apart.
I don’t mind. I’ve got a full belly, I’m wearing a kick-ass pair of scarlet, heeled booties, and I look fine as fuck in these jeans, my waves spilling down my back. I can’t wait to see Garrett’s reaction.
When they eventually locate us, that is.
The other part of Cara’s plan involved sending them video clues in our group chat as we made our way around the city. They’ve been chasing after us, and it’s been significantly entertaining reading their excited texts when they realize where we are, only to have it followed by a fuckton of swearing when they find we’ve already moved on. We’ve been at least two steps ahead of them the entire night.
Now I’m in the middle of the dance floor at Sapphire, sweaty as fuck as I spin around it, a tiny pregnant woman dancing more than I’ve ever seen—she’s riding a wild sugar high from dessert—and Cara’s double-fisting her martinis.
Even with all the noise, it’s impossible to miss the chatter that starts, the small frenzy that suddenly ensues, and when a wicked smirk breaks across Cara’s face, I know: they’re here.
She shoves her martinis into Olivia’s hands and points at a handsome, dark-haired man. “You. Dance with me.”
His eyes double in size. “O-okay.”
She snuggles into his chest and slides his hands over her hips as they start swaying together, and the poor guy looks like he’s in heaven.
He might be in thirty seconds. Emmett looks like he’s gonna put him through the floor.
The broad teddy bear of a man comes to a stop in front of them, staring down at his smiling wife. His fists clench and he flicks his gaze toward the man holding Cara. “Hands off my wife. Now.”
He drops Cara like she’s on fire, sprinting off the dance floor, and I snicker-snort as Emmett scoops her up, tosses her over his shoulder, and carts her off toward the private booths in the back.