Page 109 of Until the Last Star Fades

“What?” She squinted. “Nooo!”

“You saw the look she gave me when we arrived at her party.”

“No, I didn’t—”

“Riley! C’mon, Erika’s face gives everything away. She’d be shite at poker.” He frowned at his sneakers. “Is it because I’m a waiter? Because of Leia? My clothes?” He looked at Riley quizzically. “I’ve always been nice to her—”

“It’s because you’re not Josh.” Riley huffed.

“Oh. Well, thank Christ for that.” His chuckle gave way to a concerned squint. “But why is that a bad thing? Doesn’t she want you to be happy?”

“No, she does, it’s just…Erika didn’t want anything to change. If I married Josh and became a hockey wife like her, all the things she and I had in common the past three years would still be there. Josh and me breaking up meant I’ve broken that bond with her. I’m moving on and I think she’s having a hard time with it.”

“But you went to high school together. You’ve got other things in common, right?”

“I don’t know if we do, to be honest…” Riley shrugged. “Not anymore.”

“Aw, that’s a shame.” He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Well, see how things are after the wedding and take it from there? Maybe it’s wedding stress making her weird?”

“God, I’m dreading going.”

“Why? Because of Leia?”

Riley nodded slowly. “Not only her, but yeah.”

“Hope, you have to talk to her sometime—you’re both bridesmaids.”

“Not by choice. Leia and I have never been close, so why start now? Especially now.” Staring at her cookie dough, Riley retreated into silence.

This is my fault. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, change the subject. Ben kissed her forehead again. “Sooo…birthday plans. Do you want me to order in or play Jamie Oliver? Jamie’s not a stretch—he’s dyslexic.”

Riley’s expression perked up. “Really? But he can cook!” She snickered. “Could we order in? Is that okay? It would feel like a treat.”

“Fine by me. I’ll get whatever you want: pizza, wings, burritos…?”

“Burritos…and cake?”

“Hell yeah! Can’t break the Hope family’s nonnegotiable birthday rules.” He bit into his brownie and squeezed her closer.

Forty-Seven

Two weeks later

A cutting from a Gerbera daisy stalk pinged across Maggie’s kitchen. “Well, that’s a work of art—not!” Piper snickered and wielded the pair of scissors again, poised to attack another stem.

Bollocks, it’s lopsided. Ben slapped another spoonful of cream cheese frosting on top of his two-layer birthday cake. “What are you saying? Blokes can’t bake?”

“No, just you.” SNIP! Another slice of stem shot across the counter, landing somewhere in Ben’s perilous stack of dirty dishes. “In the past month, I’ve seen you make toast, cereal, and peanut butter sandwiches—you cook like a twelve-year-old boy.”

“Says the lass who lives on Chef Boyardee.” Taking his time, he smoothed the frosting across the cake. “Granted, it’s not the prettiest cake, but it’ll be a nice surprise.”

“Oh, it’ll surprise her all right! It looks nothing like Maggie’s cakes.”

“It’s Maggie’s red velvet recipe.”

She scrunched up her nose. “It is?”

“Careful, Pip, your face might stay that way.” He leaned across the counter, checking his phone. “What time did Maggie say they’d be back?”