I laughed, surprised at his harsh assessment. “I’m single!”
He took another sip of coffee, hiding a full-blown smile behind it. “I am too, I guess.”
I laughed more and it felt strange because it was the first time I had genuinely smiled all morning. But it wasn’t my date who’d made me laugh. It was Vann.
“We’re only single because those are our options,” I told him, still laughing.
His eyes bugged, “You’re telling me. I went to dinner with a girl last week who walks dogs for a living.”
“That’s a real job,” I told him, unable to lose my smile.
“But,” he added, holding up a finger, “only so she can pursue her dream of becoming an influencer.” His eyes got bigger. “I had to google what that was, by the way.”
My head tipped back, and I had to hold my stomach as I laughed harder than I had in weeks. “She’ll probably be a millionaire by next year.”
He rested his weight on his elbows, leaning toward me to admit. “The dogs were pretty cute.”
Where had this sense of humor come from? “We’re in the wrong professions, I think.”
He shook his head. “My selfie game is tragic.”
“It’s all about the angles,” I told him. “You have to know how to work them.”
Picking his phone up off the table, he barely tilted it toward himself and asked, “I hear this is a good one.”
“That’s perfect as long as you want three double chins.”
He rubbed his throat with his free hand. “Think it will help me get more dates?”
I smiled, nibbling on my bottom lip at the same time. “Yes?”
“Speaking of…” he murmured. “Here comes yours.”
Matt huffed across the restaurant and straight past where we sat toward the bathroom. He gave me an impatient look as he brushed by and I couldn’t help but want to jump into Vann’s lap and ask him to save me.
He’d already saved me. Thinking about it, he was pretty much making a habit of saving me.
As soon as the bathroom door swung closed behind Matt, I grabbed my purse and stood up. “Now’s my chance.”
Vann glanced over his shoulder. “You’re right.” Before I could completely walk away though, he added, “By the way, I think firing that employee makes you a smart boss, not a bitch.”
“Wha—?”
“I overheard him giving you a hard time. He’s an idiot. Don’t let him make you feel bad for doing the best thing for your business.”
I blinked, feeling unexpected moisture pooling along my lashes. “Thank you.”
The bathroom door made a creaking sound and we both jumped. “Run, Dillon.”
I hurried from the coffee shop with a smile I was unable to stop—no thanks to my actual date.
Nine
“The bride has arrived!” Kaya and I shouted from the booth we’d slipped into while waiting for the rest of the bridal party to join us.
Vera and Molly slid onto the seat across from us. Molly was dressed in black from head to toe as we had previously decided, and Vera wore a super cute turquoise ruffly top and black ripped skinny jeans. The sash we’d bought her was nowhere to be seen.
“You’re not wearing white,” Kaya protested the second they’d settled in their seats.
“And where’s the ‘Bridezilla’ sash?”
Molly leaned forward with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, confiding, “She’s been especially difficult today.”
An insulted laugh bubbled out of Vera and she slapped Molly’s shoulder. “Stop it.” She looked at Kaya and me and explained. “I don’t own anything white that fits right now. It was this top or a garbage bag. Who knew boobs could get this big!”
Molly rolled her eyes. “We all feel so sorry for you and your giant boobs.” To us she added, “And she looked great in everything she tried on. She’s just being high-maintenance.”
“I guess we’ll have to save our obnoxious sash for your bachelorette, Molls,” Kaya said, grinning.
Molly’s cheeks flamed red, making the prospect of parading her around Durham wearing a veil, a sash and a necklace made out of tiny penises that much more enticing!
Okay, she would probably fake her own death and run away to the Caymans before wearing penis jewelry anywhere, but it would be fun to watch her reaction when I pulled it out.
“I still think this should count as a double bachelorette,” Molly argued. “I mean, we might as well, since we’re both here and everything. Then we don’t have to try to align schedules again.”
To her point, it had been a nightmare trying to pick a night where all four of us could be together. The bridal brunch had been easier to plan, but even that was difficult now that Kaya had opened Sarita up to brunch on the weekends and Killian and Vera were getting closer and closer to opening.
“We’re not doing that,” Vera said vehemently. “You deserve your very own special night of embarrassment and debauchery.”
Molly pulled a face. “Debauchery? Do I have to?”
Vera looked at Kaya and me expectantly. “One of us has to do debauchery. It obviously can’t be me.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “Why can’t it be you?”
Vera pointed at her belly. “Um… pregnant. Remember? I can’t expose the baby to debauched things. That would be irresponsible parenting.”
“Uh, it can’t be me,” Molly repeated. “I might be pregnant.”
The three of us bugged our eyes out at the same time. She pursed her lips together and shook her head, letting us know she wasn’t serious. I let out a slow breath. I wasn’t ready to be an aunt yet.
One baby at a time.
“Debauchery’s off the table for me too,” Kaya said with a wistful sigh. “The old ball and chain is surprisingly against it.”
The three of them turned to me. Vera grinned. “That leaves you, Dillon. You’re the only one left to debauch.”
“Ha! I’m not debauching alone,” I told them adamantly. “We debauch together or not at all.”
They shrugged. Apparently, it was a not at all kind of night.
“There go my fun plans for strip clubs and lap dances,” I told them—even though I wasn’t serious. Our real schedule for the night included supper at a hole in the wall that supposedly served the best chips and guac in town—possibly the state. Also, possibly the entire world. Margaritas for those of us not with child and an in-house lime refresher for the preggo one. Then dessert, at another hole in the wall that served the best tiramisu in the universe and had an excellent selection of Prosecco. Then second dessert with coffee and added Baileys for those of us not baking a human, raspberry fried ice cream and in-house ice cream cookie sandwiches with mascarpone cream sauce. But first cocktails and apps at this adorable Americana hipster place, Craft, that was known for their excellent bartending and house-made appetizers.
Basically, unlike other bachelorettes I’d been to where we were in a secret contest to see who could eat the least and drink the most, this one was all about seeing who could gain the most weight from our never-ending progressive dinner.
Which is why I loved this group of friends the most. They were the friends I had been waiting for my entire life. My personal circle of soulmates that I had to search for and find, and then claim for my own.
My prep school friends were all trophy wives and cautionary tales. My culinary school friends excelled at passive aggressive competitions that belittled and soul-stripped.
These girls were real. Authentic. True blue soul sisters with zero agenda and one hundred percent support—all day every day.
I couldn’t have picked better friends. Or a better bachelorette.
All Vera wanted to do was keep it small, chill and full of her favorite pregnancy cravings. Molly, Kaya and I were all over that.
“Good!” Vera exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Because I invited the boys!”
“What?” I screeched the word.
Vera’s expression fell. “Was that not okay?”
I schooled my expression and swallowed the complaint I wanted to voice. “It’s fine,” I assured her. “Totally fine.”
“Two fines,” Kaya noted. “It’s definitely not fine.”
Bumping her with my shoulder, I tried to come up with an excuse, but nothing came to mind.
“Are you really upset?” Vera asked, looking crushed.
I reached across the table and grabbed her hand, squeezing it in mine. “I’m not upset at all. This night is about you. I want to do whatever you want to do.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Dillon.”
They were all staring at me with expectant expressions. The truth came out unintentionally because I loved these people too much to default to my usual borrowed personalities. I didn’t have it in me to be fine with them. “It’s hard, okay? It’s hard being the third wheel. Or the…” I quickly counted the couples that would be here tonight. “Seventh wheel.” I held up my hands. “I don’t want to be the loser here without a boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend. I have a fiancé.” Molly said, in the most pretentious voice ever. She eyed Vera. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
She jutted out her chin and sniffed the air. With the snobbiest tone on the planet, she said, “I have a baby daddy.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. At least they meant well. “And I have a string of bad dates. During my most recent, I snuck out of the coffee shop while he went to the bathroom.” At their dropped jaws and raised eyebrows, I admitted, “Not my finest moment.”
“Was he skeezy?” Kaya asked.
“It was nine in the morning, so it wasn’t like he tried to get all inappropriate. We just… didn’t click.”
“You’ve got to click,” Molly agreed.
“And we texted fine,” I continued. “But there was zero chemistry in person. I laughed more with Vann in the two minutes I spent with him than I did on the entire date.”
“Vann?” Vera asked, but I felt the question resonate around the table.
The waiter chose that moment to finally stop by and grab our drink order. A white wine spritzer for Molly, a paloma for Kaya, a water with cucumber for Vera and my latest obsession—an Old Fashioned with Buffalo Trace. One extra cherry. Thank you very much.
I could do the champagne cocktails and froufrou drinks when pushed, but whiskey was my thing—American. Barrel-Aged. Twelve-year-old. Amen and amen.
We also ordered a charcuterie board, the house pickles, pretzels, and bar nuts in various shapes, sizes and flavors.
“Did you say Vann?” Vera repeated when we were alone again.
Had I said Vann?
Damn.
I told you I was terrible at blurting out the truth and nothing but the truth when it came to these four women that made up my inner circle.
“Oh, yeah, it was the strangest thing. He happened to walk in when I was on this date from hell and he ended up kind of saved me.” They blinked at me, like I’d just explained the whole thing in Mandarin. “You know your brother.” I waved my hand in the air, hoping I had recently acquired the magical skill of getting girls to skip over conversations about boys.
“Apparently, I don’t know my brother,” Vera drawled. “Please, tell me more about him. And you. And this date he saved you from.”
“V, this night is about you! I feel like I’m taking up all the oxygen. Enough about my failed dating life. Let’s celebrate your more successful one!”
Kaya leaned forward, planting her elbows on the table. “Nice try, blondie. But we want the goods. Give us the whole story.”
I looked to Molly for some help. She held her hands up in defeat and said, “He’s basically my brother too. I’m just as curious.”
“Ugh.”
“Spill it,” Vera ordered.
So, I did. I started at the beginning when Benny asked me if he could set me up with Matt and ended with my escape from the worst coffee date in history when Matt went to the bathroom, leaving out all the important details about Vann’s smile and his rival bad dating life and that this was the third time he’d saved me from an unfortunate end.
I thought they’d give me immediate input into the whole ordeal, but all three of them sat back in their seats and were basically quiet until the bartender dropped off our drinks a minute later.
“That was nice of him,” Vera finally said.
“That’s what I said. He saved me. It was nice.”
“He’s off nice girls,” she added.
“I know. He told me.”
Her face screwed up like a shrewd field mouse. “Does that bother you?”
I gave her the look of a confused spider monkey in return. “Why would it bother me?”
“You’re a nice girl,” she pointed out.
“But I don’t want to date your brother.”
Now she looked offended. I needed her to make up her damn mind.
Could I blame this mental whiplash on pregnancy?
Sure?
Maybe I’d ask Killian later since he was apparently joining us.
I chose response-neutrality. “Thank you. I think you’re nice too, Vere.”
Working extra hard to pull us out of awkward territory, Molly said, “Benny should know better. Where’s the bro-awareness for his own posse. Come on, dude.”
But at the same time, Kaya added, “Vann’s coming tonight, isn’t he?”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I politely refrained. “Can I just remind y’all that Vann wasn’t the point of the story. I was actually talking about my terrible luck with men. Thank you for rubbing it in my face.”
They really hadn’t offended me, but I had to do something to divert their attention.
Kaya’s elbow nudged mine where it rested on the table. “I think you broke Vera’s brain.”
“Not true!” she defended immediately. “Pregnancy broke my brain. Dillon just surprised me. I didn’t realize you knew each other.”
“We don’t,” I assured her. “Not really. It was this awkward, chance meeting thing. It lasted all of fifteen minutes.” Regrouping, I realized Vera needed something besides the facts. She needed me to weave her a story that would make sense in her hormone-addled brain. “We’ve run into each other enough that he recognized me. And then he overheard our conversation and basically just stepped in because even he could recognize how awful it was.”
It was that very moment that Killian arrived, sliding in next to Vera at our table and squishing her against Molly. He grinned at Kaya and me. “Hey, ladies.”
What a dork.
Before we could even respond, Ezra appeared, looking buttoned up and socially awkward as ever. Then Wyatt walked over from the bar, the exact opposite of Ezra—tattooed, loose and totally comfortable in every space. And then… the man of the hour. Vann.
He wore a version of what I had come to realize was every outfit for him complete with trendy sneakers. He trailed behind the other guys, in no rush.
I squeezed out of the booth so Wyatt could sit next to Kaya, but that only squashed me awkwardly between Ezra and the table and god, I just wanted to leave. Why had I opened my stupid mouth? Why were men here at all?
This was supposed to be a bachelorette party. The plan was to gorge ourselves on good food, unbutton our pants or skirts later and curl up on my gigantic leather couches and finish the night with Meg Ryan movies.
We’d all taken the weekend off to celebrate the union of two of our favorite people. We had all let other, less qualified people run our kitchens for the entire weekend. That meant Blaze was currently at Bianca, by himself. Without my supervision.
I needed alcohol to soothe my frayed nerves and give me the courage to get through this vacation weekend. And I needed my friends. And a fantastic time. And for them not to write a narrative of what was going on between Vann and me in their heads only for them to get their hopes up and then dashed to smithereens.
“Dillon,” Ezra said, in that way of his that didn’t include normal words like hello or hey or how’s it going.
“Ezra,” I returned formally. “You going to make it through this weekend?” He had been ordered by Killian, Vera, and Molly that he could not work, no matter what.
I could already see his hand twitching, desperate to check his phone. He wasn’t going to last thirty minutes.
Not that I was any better.
Ezra eyed me seriously. “That depends. Is my restaurant going to make it through this weekend?”
Ha. Touché! I shrugged helplessly. “Hopefully?”
His glare sent me running back to the bar. I knocked my drink down as I went, fully aware that I’d just thrown back an Old Fashioned like a shot, which was basically sacrilege in the Bourbon community. But desperate times and all that. I tottered trying to walk in the tall heels I hadn’t worn in months, maybe longer than that.
These red-soled beauties used to be my party girl go-to, but since finding a real purpose in life, I’d traded them in for sensible sneakers with Dr. Scholl inserts.
Sometimes I wore Crocs.
Oh, if only my high school friends could see me now.
“I think you owe me a drink,” Vann’s reserved voice suggested from beside me.
I hadn’t realized he’d followed me over here. I side-eyed him while leaning forward on the bar and flashing some upper cleavage. It wasn’t for Vann. It was so the bartender didn’t make me wait twenty minutes before he noticed me.
Listen, I’m all about female empowerment and making a name for myself in my trade because of my talent and not my tatas. However, this was a packed bar and I wasn’t above using my assets to get drinks faster than the huddle of frat guys at the other end.
He rested his elbow on the bar and turned his body to face mine. “Saving you is turning into a bad habit. I feel as though some compensation might even things out for us.”
“Someone thinks highly of his accidental ability to be in the right place at the right time.”
He let out a laugh that had an edge to it. “Maybe it’s you with the knack to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Have you ever thought about that?”
I had definitely thought about that. It seemed to be the entire direction of my life.
The Something about Her: Opposites Attract book four Page 11