Page 71 of Bottles & Blades
Gentle eyes. A soft brush of his lips over my forehead. “Be back.”
He steps a few feet away and answers the call.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, kid,” Stefan mutters, drawing me into a hug.
“I—”
But he drops his arms and is gone before I can reply.
“He’ll get over it.”
I glance up at Brit, wince. “Maybe.”
“He will.” She nudges her shoulder against mine, sticks her tongue out at Stefan, who glowers back. “You just listen to your heart, honey.”
God, I love these two.
“Brit,” I whisper, snagging her hand, squeezing it. “You guys have been so?—”
She squeezes back when I get choked up. “You’re family, babe. Which means you’re stuck with us.” Another bump. “Now, go home, enjoy yourself, and we’ll see you in a couple of days, yeah?”
I frown. “I’m supposed to be grab Roxie tomorrow.”
“Youwere.” She smooths her finger beneath one of my eyes and then the other. “Now the plan is that you’re going to take a couple of days to get rid of these.” She leans closer, lips at my ear. “And to soak up this time with Jean-Michel.”
I suck in a breath. “Brit,” I warn.
She leans back, grins. “I like him.”
“Stefan clearly doesn’t feel the same way.”
“Like I said, he’ll come around.”
Nerves ripple through my stomach. “How do you know?”
She touches my cheek lightly before pulling me into a hug and murmuring, “Because he loves you, honey. And he wants you to be happy.”
“Even if my happy makes himunhappy?”
“No, because he’ll get his head straight soon enough and realize that you being happy makes him happy too—no matter the form it comes in.”
I hug her back. “Thanks, Brit.”
“Anytime, honey.” She drops her arms and turns for Stefan, but just as quickly, she turns back, her eyes deadly serious. “But, heaven help Jean-Michel if he hurts you.” A beat.
“Because then he’ll have to deal withbothof us.”
“And then,”Rory says, “Joan of Freaking Arc”—Chrissy’s testy senior cat, as I found out this afternoon—“puffed up to at least twice her size, but she still let the puppy cuddle up close to her.”
Something else I learned this afternoon?—
Rory and Chrissybothrescue animals—cats, like Jean-Mi had mentioned previously, for Chrissy, and dogs for Rory.
“She’s surly on the outside and a soft, cuddly teddy bear on the inside.”
A beat, and even though it’s dark as we drive up to Chrissy’s house, where they’re finishing out their girls’ day with “bad movies, lots of popcorn, and a sleepover like the teenagers we are at heart,” I can see the flash of white in the shadows when I glance back over my shoulder and smile at Rory.
“Kind of like someone else I know,” she goes on. “Like, say, a surly business man who’s really ooey gooey on the inside.”
