Page 11 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"I'll see you this week?"

"Yeah, definitely. I'll text you." He leans in and kisses me. It's brief, almost perfunctory.

"I love you, Scarlett."

"Love you too."

I watch him walk away, hands in his pockets, shoulders still hunched. There's something wrong. I can feel it. Something he's not telling me.

I pull out my phone and text Jane:

Winter: Still coming over later?

Her response is immediate:

Jane: Wouldn't miss it! Sarah and I will be there by 6 with champagneand snacks.

At least I'll have my friends tonight. At least they're consistent.

I head back to my apartment, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that's settled in my chest.

Jane and Sarah show up at six PM exactly, arms full of supplies. Jane has the champagne—two bottles, one already chilled. Sarah carries a bag from our favorite bakery and another bag that clinks with what sounds like glasses.

"The party has arrived!" Jane announces, sweeping into my apartment like she owns the place.

Sarah follows, grinning.

"We come bearing gifts and moral support."

I hug them both, grateful for their presence. Jane and Sarah have been my best friends since college. We met freshman year at Northwestern—three girls thrown together in a cramped dorm room who somehow became inseparable. Sarah went on to law school and became a paralegal. Jane landed in publishing. I went into PR. Despite our different career paths, we've stayed close.

"I already changed," I tell them, gesturing to my comfortable clothes.

"Hope you don't mind the casual vibe."

"Are you kidding? This is perfect." Sarah starts unpacking the bakery bag.

"We've got cupcakes, cookies, and those little cannoli you love."

Jane is already working on opening the champagne.

"We're here to celebrate. One more week until you're a married woman!"

The cork pops with a satisfying sound, and Jane pours three generous glasses. We gather on my couch, the coffee table covered with desserts and champagne.

"To Scarlett," Jane raises her glass.

"The most organized, capable, beautiful bride in Chicago."

"To not having a nervous breakdown before Saturday," Sarah adds with a laugh.

We clink glasses and drink. The champagne is crisp and perfect, bubbles dancing on my tongue.

"So," Sarah settles back into the cushions, "how are you really feeling? Be honest."

"I'm okay," I say automatically.

Jane gives me a look.