Page 47 of Gin and Bear It

“Congratulations.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his pants and looks between the two of us. “I never thought I’d see the day that Ashley Beauregard Stryker settled down.”

“Fuck you,” I say without heat.

Jada’s grin is adorably goofy. “I’ve never known anyone to be less like their name before.”

“I know, right?” Dylan grins back. “Except for after he’s had a lot of drinks and the accent comes out.”

I glare at him for real this time. I’ve managed to lose most of my accent since I left Jepsen but drinks bring it roaring back as much as I try to suppress it. Jada’s eyes sparkle with curiosity.

“We need to go,” I say, unlocking my car.

Dylan and Jada exchange a look but get into the car, too.

“Half of Jepsen is probably at my parents’ house right now,” I say as we pull out of the lot, just to get the thought out of my head.

“You sound so thrilled,” Dylan says, his tone dry. “You always fuck with a party.”

“Yeah, but the big difference is that my mom didn’t put those parties together.” I unlock my car and open the door for Jada, who gives me that cute, shy look she gets when I do something she’s not expecting. “You didn’t get my mom at full blast when you met her, but you’ll understand. This is going to be almost as bad as Calabasas.”

“Almost as bad as Calabasas?” His eyebrows go up.

“Maybe not that bad, but not good, either.”

“What happened in Calabasas?” Jada asks, looking between us.

“You didn’t tell her?” Dylan asks.

“Not directly. We didn’t get into that,” I say, shooting him a look. “We both got our hearts ‘shattered’ and got fucked up,” I say lightly. “Early twenties BS. Looking back, it wasn’t even that serious for me. A three-month fling. Not worth mentioning.”

It’s easier to make it a joke and play it off than get into the real feelings. Dylan knows that it wasn’t anything like I said, but he also knows that I don’t dig deep into that terrible night. Not even with him, and he was there.

That night was the worst one of my life. My brain has squeezed it into a black box of horrible memories so nothing in particular will jump out and hurt me when I least expect it.

“Oh, so someone did get to your heart?” Jada says, matching my light tone. “I thought you were impervious.”

“I was in my early twenties, like I said,” I say. “I was a different person back then.”

I shift the attention over to Dylan rather than The Worst Night of My Life. He’s been in a somewhat similar rut since the band fell apart, but in less annoying circumstances—living at his parents’ regenerative farm, helping out there, and trying to figure out what the fuck to do with his life now that our music career might be over.

Except his family’s farm is incredible, and his parents are the kind I wish I had. They’re a little out there, but good people.

And he doesn’t need to be married. Not that I think he’d ever get married. After Calabasas—which was also one of the worst nights of his life—he’s been as single as I have been, minus all my random hookups.

Mom, as expected, had zero chill or restraint when putting this party together. For having done this last minute, it’s a lot. The long driveway has elaborate balloons intermittently alongside it until we reach the house. People are parked along the road and it’s stuffed with cars, more cars than could reasonably fit our immediate family. So she invited her friends—half of Jepsen.

“She went even further than I thought she would,” Jada says to me as I park. “I should have known.”

She takes my hand over the car’s console and squeezes it, probably out of nerves. It puts on a good show for Dylan.

We park and make our way to the front door, Dylan behind us. I’ve been to parties all over the world, ones that define the idea of excess, but nothing is more overwhelming than walking up to what’s going on at my parents’ house.

The front door is open, so I gesture for Jada to go first. Mom did some rearranging and decorating in the short time since I’ve been away, maybe just for this event. Staff of some kind are in and out of the kitchen. How the fuck did she get catering on such short notice? Just peering through the windows at the backyard shows me that we’ve barely scratched the surface.

Bubba comes up to us, his whole butt wagging with his tail.

“So this is Bubba?” Dylan kneels and Bubba loses his mind, prancing around and sniffing him all over. “You’re an even better boy than Ash told me about. Look at that face. Look at that tail going. What a good boy.”

The one thing our families have in common is their love for dogs, so he’s familiar with Bubba already.