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I open the back door and slide onto the seat.
“Hey,” I peep.
“Jane, hi,” Marcie says, turning her head to flash me a big smile. “Hope you don’t mind I brought my sister Jules along.” She nods to the girl beside her, and I can’t believe I didn’t realize it right away. Except for a few differences, they look like they could be twins. Jules has wavy golden-brown hair that cascades over her shoulders while Marcie’s is a bit darker. Jules has hazel eyes, and Marcie’s are dark brown.
“Hey,” Jules says, waving at me. “Sorry for crashing.”
“Her boyfriend was being a prick . . . again. So she needed to get her mind off things,” Marcie elaborates.
“No problem,” I say with a genuine smile. Maybe this won’t be so bad. It’s always hard to bond with someone when there’s someone else present, especially when they know each other so well, but Jules has the same kind eyes as Marcie. “Where are we going?”
“Cielo on Santa Monica Boulevard. A cute Italian place,” Marcie says as we roll out of Colton’s driveway.
The drive to the restaurant lasts about fifteen minutes. When we arrive, we’re seated at a round table with a cute checkered tablecloth. A server brings us some ice water with basil leaves as garnish, and we order right away. The girls come here often, so they know what they want. I just follow along.
“Congrats on your engagement,” Jules says, offering a perfect smile. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to make the party, though.”
“Thank you, and don’t worry about it,” I say with a smile of my own. Especially since I have no idea who’s on the guest list, just like I don’t know who’s invited to the wedding. Though I’m assuming it’ll be the same people. “Hope you’ll make the wedding,” I add.
“I wouldn’t miss it. Who knew Colton Green was such a romantic? I mean, sure, he created a matchmaking app and all. But still.”
“Right?” Marcie says. “That’s exactly what I said.”
“I suppose he can seem a little cold,” I say. Who am I kidding? He’s frigid most of the time. “But he can be sweet too.” My mind wanders back to all those moments when he revealed to me what I believe is his real self. When he doubled my advance, when he moved me out of my apartment early, when he switched my bedroom for one downstairs so Truffles would be safer. Underneath that icy surface, Colton Green is a pretty decent man.
“If only Zed would be more like that,” Jules groans, her chin resting on her hand. “He’s—”
“A prick,” Marcie finishes. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore. We’ve gone over this all night and all morning. I need a break from the drama.”
Jules shakes her head. “You’re right. He doesn’t deserve me. I’m better than that,” she says, as if repeating a mantra.
“That’s it.” Marcie gives her a teasing pat on the shoulder. “Tell yourself what you tell your patients.”
“Patients?” I ask, my brow wrinkled.
“Jules is a psychologist.”
“Funny, huh? How I’m giving people advice even though I’m a mess myself.”
“Are you studying to become a psychologist too?” I ask Marcie, remembering she’s about to start med school.
“Nope. I want to be a surgeon.”
My eyes widen. “That’s great. Ambitious.”
Marcie’s cheeks redden, and Jules wraps an arm around her. “My little sister is hoping to outshine all of us and finally make our dad’s wishes come true—that one of us follows in his footsteps.”
“Dad’s a neurosurgeon,” Marcie explains.
“How many more siblings do you have?”
“Two,” they say in unison.
“Jules is the oldest, and I’m the youngest,” Marcie says. “Then there’s Dean. He’s two years older than me, and he’s a sports agent. And Amber, who’s a year older than Dean. She moved to New York to be a lawyer,” Marcie says.”
“Fancy,” I say, truly impressed by their highly successful family.
“The three of us live together,” Jules adds. “Dean, Marcie, and me.”
