“What’s the catch?” Daemon asked, his eyes narrowing.
“No catch. It’s a good job.”
Daemon huffed out a laugh. “You’re as bad of a liar as your sister.” Noah locked eyes with his brother-in-law-to-be, who seemed to consider him for a beat too long, his brow drawn low.
“Alright, boys, that’s our cue,” Pattie said, getting to her feet. “Jamie and Liam, come help me find something decent to eat so we can soak up all this whiskey before we stumble down the aisle.”
“I know just the place,” Jamie said, sliding on his shoes. “The diner down the road makes great burgers.”
Liam shot Noah a questioning glance, but he gave him a quick nod. If his brother-in-law wanted a minute alone, that was fine by him. Pattie followed Liam and Jamie from the room, throwing a wink at Daemon and Noah before closing the door behind them.
“What’s the catch?” Daemon repeated when they were alone.
“Three months on the road. Maybe six.” Noah sank onto the chair opposite Daemon. “How did you do it? The whole long-distance thing?”
Daemon took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes surveying Noah as if he were trying to decipher some riddle scrawled on his face. “It’s not easy,” he said at last. “You’ve got to make phone calls a priority. Texting when there’s no other option. Liv and I made a deal to never go more than two weeks without seeing each other, even if it was only for twenty-four hours. It’s a lot of red eye flights and never knowing where you left your toothbrush. But it beats the alternative.”
Noah took another sip. Would he fly back and forth every two weeks to see Callie? In a heartbeat. Daemon was right; it beat the alternative, but it still wouldn’t be enough. He still couldn’t guarantee he’d be there if she had a flare up.
“You want my advice?” Daemon asked. “Don’t do it if you don’t have to. I’ve seen the distance break more couples than I can count. You and Callie are the real deal.”
“We haven’t been together that long,” Noah said, not entirely sure why he was fighting Daemon on that particular point.
“You two have been dancing around each other for as long as I’ve known you.” Noah’s eyes snapped to Daemon’s, who grinned like Noah’s shock was amusing. “The first Christmas I spent with your family, at the cabin in the Berkshires, I told Liv that you and Callie were going to end up together.”
Noah remembered that trip—the way Callie’s cheeks had turned red when they went sledding, how she emptied half a bag of marshmallows in each cup of hot chocolate, the nights he barely slept knowing she was just on the other side of the wall from him.
Daemon shrugged. “Even then it was obvious. You love her.”
It wasn’t a question and somehow having Daemon say it like that, like it was fact, plain and simple, untangled a few of the knots in Noah’s stomach. He nodded.
“Then you’ll figure it out.”
Chapter 23
The feminine secret about primping before a wedding? It was a lot of sitting around and waiting. And mimosas. Lots of mimosas.
The hair stylist arrived with hot gossip about Raine Winters, a pop star Daemon briefly had a fling with a few years back—before he met Liv—and her bridezilla demands for her wedding to former boy band member Hunter Keating. Apparently, the stylist was a devoted fan of the reality TV show documenting the couple’s road to the altar, and she delighted in sharing the details as Liv, Min, and Callie sipped their drinks.
“Aren’t you going to that wedding?” Callie asked. The stylist’s hands paused for a fraction of a section, her eyes going wide before she got herself back under control and slid another bobby pin into place.
Liv shrugged. “We’re not sure yet. It’s one of the things our managers are trying to negotiate with the new production, but they’re not super willing to give both of their leads a weekend off only a month after opening.”
“Wouldn’t it be weird to go to your husband’s ex-girlfriend’s wedding?” Min asked.
“Nah. Despite her public persona, Raine’s a total sweetheart and she and Daem didn’t even really date. Besides, it was a million years ago. We met Raine and Hunter for drinks while we were in London. Speaking of which,” Liv said, holding out her empty champagne flute with a little shimmy.
Callie shook her head and refilled Liv’s glass with yet another mimosa. Callie was still working on her first glass of plain orange juice and had already lost count of how many of the bubbly drinks Liv had knocked back. By the time the hair stylist finished Liv’s elaborate updo and said goodbye, the bride was well on her way to tipsy.
“I’m getting married today!” she squealed for at least the third time.
Callie laughed, clinking her glass against Liv’s. “You better slow down, babe, if you don’t want to be sloppy when you walk down the aisle.”
“Fine,Mom,” Liv said with an exaggerated eye roll, unable to hide her smile.
“Speaking of—how did you manage to finagle a mother-free morning?” Callie asked.
“I sent them for massages. Lord knows they both need to chill out.”
