What She Found - Emerald O'Brien Page 0,3

drink. He hasn’t even felt the need to explain himself all five times he’s had to say it. Why do I always feel like I need to explain myself when I say no?

Wesley slouches and rests his elbows on the table, shaking his head. “Wow. That’s gotta be…”

“Crazy?” Matt asks. “Intense? Yeah, it is, but they’re the best things that have ever happened to me—to us—and it’s like, you know how they say it’s the best day of your life, having kids?” He slurs his “s,” and Cassy frowns at him. “Well, imagine doubling that feeling. That’s what it’s like.”

“Matt,” Cassy hisses.

Is it the drinks or the kid talk? I can’t tell what’s upset her, but I can understand if it’s the kids. We’re all so used to being sensitive when talking about babies in front of Arland and Liz, but they haven’t seemed to notice or care this time. After the adoption of their nine-year-old, Ryan, the subject of babies hasn’t been as taboo.

“What are those?” Cassy asks, turning up her nose as Matt sets the tray on the table.

Come on, Cass. As if you’ve ever turned away a drink. What’s up with you?

“They’re called Burt Reynolds.” Arland licks his lips and smacks them. “You’re going to love them. The boys at the yacht club introduced me to them this summer.”

“Yacht club,” Matt imitates and chuckles.

“Nope.” Cassy huffs. “No, I think we’ve all drunk enough for today… for the month!”

Matt sets one in front of her, and then his spot, followed by Wesley’s.

Wesley pushes it away. “None for me.”

“Oh, shit. Right.” Matt tips it back against his lips and swallows. “Sorry, I forgot.”

He did that on purpose, so he’d get an extra shot with minimal blow-back from Cassy. She opens her mouth, but Connor and Arland’s laughs drown out whatever she’s saying.

Matt hands one to Connor and walks behind him, setting one in front of me and squeezing my shoulder with a wink. I smile up at him.

Poor Matt. Just trying to have a good time.

“Were those the magic words? Burt Reynolds?” I ask with a smirk and hiccup, picking up the deceivingly heavy shot glass.

Matt shakes his head. “Naw. The magic word’s ‘fun.’ Something my wife used to be back before the twins.”

“Ohhh,” Connor shouts and slaps the table as Cassy’s jaw drops.

As Matt rounds the table toward her, she sneers up at him.

“Ho, ho,” Arland chuckles, shaking his head. “That was bad. And I thought I was in the doghouse!”

“You are!” Liz calls, rolling her eyes, but he rests his hands on her shoulders again, and she smiles as they all stare at Matt, wrapping his arms around Cassy and trying to kiss her cheek as she swats him away.

“You try passing twins through a hole in your body,” Cassy shouts, “and see if you feel as fun and fancy-free after that!”

We all erupt with laughter as Matt wraps her in his arms and pulls her to her feet. “I know how tired you are and how hard you work, and I just want you to take this weekend for you. For us.”

They stare into each other’s eyes, and I’m frozen watching them, caught up in their love story that began before I even knew them.

“I know,” Cassy whispers, licking her lips and letting out a deep sigh.

He kisses her, and it breaks the spell. Tears well up in my eyes. That shared connection is something I’ll never have with Derek again. Maybe never with anyone again, but anyone doesn’t matter.

Derek matters. Mattered.

My thoughts swirl as Connor pipes up, running his fingers through his short red hair. “Now can we all take the bloody shot and get back to the game?”

He picks up the shot glass, and we all follow suit—even Wesley with his glass of cola. I blink back tears, turning away as Liz shrugs Arland’s hands off her shoulders and his smile fades.

Serves him right. He shouldn’t be able to get away with it that easily.

“To fun!” Matt says. “May we have it tonight, even if we don’t remember it tomorrow!”

“To fun!” Connor echoes as we clink our glasses, and I turn to Cassy to tap ours together. She smiles and tilts her head to the side, acknowledging that I’m trying to have a good time too, before turning to Matt. They lock eyes, taking a swig of their drinks.

Closing my eyes, I shoot mine back, and the buttery smooth flavour rolls off my tongue and burns down my throat.

I open my eyes, and Wesley’s