Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek #2) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,78
the old firehouse through a glass door to the left of the lobby entrance, and as we went up the stairs to the apartment, the aroma of garlic and lemon and something roasting in the oven made my mouth water.
Blair, wearing an apron over her dress, greeted us with a hug, and Griffin handed me a beer and Cheyenne a glass of wine.
I made up my mind to stop fretting about things so much and just enjoy the time I had with Cheyenne and my friends. This was the first time in a decade I’d done something like this. I wanted to savor it.
Blair and Griffin had decided to delay their honeymoon until after the holidays and were planning a trip to Mexico just after the New Year. Over plates of lemony chicken piccata, smashed potatoes and sautéed spinach, Blair rapturously described the resort they’d chosen.
“I’m so jealous,” Cheyenne said, taking a sip of her wine. “I wish I could get away to the beach this winter.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” Across the table, Blair flashed us an encouraging smile. “It would be fun!”
Next to her, Griffin frowned. “Did you just invite people on our honeymoon?”
“What, you and I are together all the time! I think it would be fun for the four of us to get away.”
“That’s a really sweet offer, Blair, but no.” Cheyenne laughed as she set her glass down and picked up her fork. “I’m not going on my brother’s honeymoon—or anyone’s honeymoon.”
“It would be impossible for me anyway,” I added. “I couldn’t leave Mariah for that long.”
“You must be excited about the new house,” Blair said. “Have you had the inspection yet?”
“Today,” I confirmed.
“How’d it go?” Griffin asked.
“Great. No surprises. I should have a closing date by the end of the year.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Cheyenne bubbled. “Cole said he might even be able to show it to me next week.”
“Really?” Blair looked at me in surprise.
I nodded. “No one is living there, and the agent said the current owners gave the okay for me to go in with a contractor and take measurements, get estimates on the work, and all that.”
“Moretti doing the reno?” Griffin asked.
“Yeah.” I grinned. “In between play dates with his girlfriend.”
Everyone laughed, and Blair said, “You guys, I feel bad. We should meet her before we judge. What if Enzo really likes her? She could be the one.”
“She’s not the one,” Griffin muttered.
Blair slapped his shoulder. “You don’t know that for sure. He seems serious about her. I spoke with him at the wedding a little.”
“I don’t know, I gotta go with Griff on this one.” I picked up my beer bottle and took a sip. “I think he’s only dating her because he’s feeling pressure from his parents to settle down. I don’t get the feeling she’s the one.”
Blair sighed, like she was frustrated with both of us. “I don’t know that I trust either one of you to recognize true love right off the bat.”
“Did you hear that, Griff?” I teased. “Your wife doesn’t think we know a good hit when we see one.”
“I heard,” Griffin said, pretending to be disgusted. “It’s like she didn’t see my in-the-park home run in the championship game this season.”
“Or my triple that drove in the winning run.” I shook my head. “Sad.”
“Appalling.” Griffin elbowed his wife.
Blair rolled her eyes. “I am not talking about old man baseball, and you know it!”
“Now she’s trying to take back what she said about us.” Griffin shook his head. “Good thing she’s hot. That’s what really matters in a relationship, am I right, Cole?”
“She’s also a great cook, which is the second most important thing.” I ate another forkful of chicken piccata, which was delicious.
“True, true,” Griffin agreed. “Or maybe the third. I won’t mention the second at the table, but don’t worry, she’s good at that too.”
Blair cleared her throat. “Cheyenne, remind me of this conversation next time I have the idea to get together for dinner.”
“Will do, sister.”
Griffin and I exchanged a grin, and something about the whole scene was both nostalgic—Griffin and I ganging up on some cute girls—and hopeful. I could imagine dinners like this in the future, with Moretti and Beckett and their wives, whoever they turned out to be, and maybe a bunch of kids running around too.
Beneath the table, I reached for Cheyenne’s hand.
As we were finishing up tiramisu and coffee, I noticed Cheyenne checking her phone.