Page 8 of Gin and Bear It

“I know. I need a damn miracle.”

Sarah Jane bursts out from the back, the bread on a plate. It takes me a full five seconds to process both her returning and what Jada’s friend said.

Jada needs a husband? Is she in some inheritance bullshit like me?

“You good?” Sarah Jane asks, putting the bread down and turning to her espresso machine.

“Yeah. Yeah.” I swallow.

The espresso machine is too loud for me to overhear anything else they say, but she said enough for the gears to start spinning.

If Jada needs a husband and I need a wife…

This is probably a bad idea.

Fuck it, I’ll think this through another time. I just need to talk to her first and sort out the details later.

Sarah Jane finishes up my coffee and slides it over. She gives me another cousin discount despite my protests and I go to the back to find a seat.

Lady wants to say hello to Jada (and everyone else in here), but I can’t let her yet. I need to wait for the right opportunity.

Jada definitely notices me—she stiffens and avoids my gaze. But the space is small and she can’t avoid seeing me. I sit in the corner and Lady settles down, passing out across my feet. Her weight across them literally holds me in place long enough to remember the other reason I left the house—to deal with legal shit.

I open my email and my stomach lurches. There’s one from the lawyer Dylan and I tentatively hired. I’m still pissed that we got screwed over, but at least Dylan and I are in this together. He’s always been steady, even in the most chaotic situations.

I pick at the monkey bread as I read the lawyer’s email. Just as he thought when we first reached out to him, we might have a shot at getting our money. Caro, Gordon, and our manager misled us when signing a contract about the money for our live shows, slipping in a clause that split the royalties for the songwriting equally when that money should have just gone to me and Dylan.

The only problem is that the conversations leading up to the signing of that contract were a bit vague, so it’ll probably take a long time to sort out.

Which will cost a lot of money.

Jada and her friend are working with no signs of getting up, so I text Dylan.

Me: Can I get a favor? Will you marry me? It’s for a good cause

Dylan texts back almost immediately.

Dylan: I love you, but I feel like we’d finally snap and strangle each other if we did.

Dylan: Also you know how I feel about marriage

Right. He’s another one of these true love conquers all types. At least I get why he feels that way, just a little. His parents are annoyingly in love, the kind of pairing where their weirdness coordinates perfectly.

Dylan doesn’t even fuck anyone unless he has genuine feelings for them. And for someone who’s as good-looking as he is, with people throwing themselves at him wherever we go, that’s a miracle or a testament to his rock-solid self-control.

I can’t relate on that front.

I eye Jada across the room. She’s frowning at her screen, her posture stooped. Her eyes flick up to mine, like she’s noticed me staring, and she glares at me. I half smile at her and she looks away, fidgeting with her locs.

That’s my way in. Does she dislike me? Hell yeah. But I know she’s attracted to me as much as she wishes she wasn’t. And I’m attracted to her, too, so flirting my way in won’t be a hardship.

I sit there for ages, waiting for both of them to leave or for her friend to get up. Finally, her friend goes to the bathroom and I make my move. I gently nudge Lady awake and she stirs, looking around.

She spots Jada and wanders over, tail wagging, so I follow her.

“Heard you need a husband,” I say, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Heard you need a wife,”’ she shoots back. “For at least one year.”