Salem whipped her head around and stared at me. “Poet andthe what?”
“Get up,” I said, wiggling off Brooks’ lap. “If I’m singing, so are you guys.”
“But I’m sober,” Salem complained. “And so is Hadley.”
“Up,” I said again.
Wyn laughed. “Poet one. The rest of us zero.”
I leaned down and said to Brooks, “After this, you and I are leaving.”
“Yeah?” he asked, raising his brows.
I nodded. “I brought home leftover cupcakes from the baby shower. You know what that means?”
His mouth flickered with amusement. “What?”
I brushed my lips against his ear when I said, “Frosting. I plan to get creative.”
When I pulled back, his eyes were burning bright. “Two can play that game.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The Diner
“You’re late,” Hadley said as she lifted a mug to her lips.
I slid into the red vinyl booth across from her and Wyn. “I’m sorry.”
She surveyed me. “Hmm. Yeah, I bet you are.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked as I reached for the menu.
Wyn grinned. “We know why you’re late.”
My cheeks heated of their own volition. “I know not of what you speak.”
“Uh huh. Sure.” Salem laughed and elbowed me.
I sighed. “How long have you guys been here?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“I’m rotten,” I muttered. “Completely rotten. But it’s not my fault.”
“No? Whose fault was it, then?” Wyn demanded.
“Brooks,” I said. “It’s all his fault.”
“Hmm. Fine. If you weren’t my best friend, I might hate you a little more, but alas, I cannot,” Wyn quipped.
“You’re not hungover,” I said to her.
Wyn shook her head. “I tried desperately to be, I swear. But when your ride home leaves the bar at eight-thirty, it’s kind of hard to have a wild night out.”
“It was perfect,” Hadley said. “Fun night out, home by nine. In pajamas by nine oh five. And a foot rub by nine-ten.”
