She groans, loudly, and the bartender looks back and forth between us before deciding to ignore whatever thought he had.
“Drinks?” he asks.
“Moscow mule, please,” Calla says without thinking twice.
“Just a beer for me, thank you.”
“Brand?”
“Your favorite on draft.” I couldn’t care less what I’m drinking right now. I’ll most likely be nursing it so that I can keep an eye on Calla.
“And a shot of vodka, please,” Calla adds.
“Yeah, good idea. Get shitfaced and wander around Vegas.”
“Oh, are you jealous I’m going to have fun tonight and you aren’t?”
“Hardly.”
“God, you’re boring.”
I roll my eyes.
“If she takes a shot, I take a shot,” I tell the bartender.
Fuck, this is going to be a long night.
CHAPTER THREE
CALLA
“Put a finger up if you married your mortal enemy one night in Vegas and now, he won’t give you a divorce.” I fake glance around my bathroom as if there are others getting ready with me. “No one else, no? Just me.”
Freaking fantastic. And now I’m talking to myself.
I finish applying my mascara then turn off the lights to the bathroom, my room, and the basement before heading up to my brother’s kitchen.
“Good morning,” I say, spotting said brother and my twelve-year-old nephew, Grey, sitting at the table eating breakfast. “Ooh, that looks yummy.”
I scuff up the hair on Grey’s head and grab a plate.
“Are you nervous about today?” Simon asks.
“What’s happening today?” Grey asks him.
“I’m starting a new job,” I answer for my brother.
“That makes you nervous?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
I catch my brother’s eye roll as soon as I drop to my seat at the table.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head and stuffs his mouth with scrambled eggs.
“Say it.”
