Page 47 of Manhattan Bossholes

A little thrill pulsed through me, and I squeezed his hand. “You make that easy.”

His eyes went soft for a moment in a way that set off butterflies in my stomach. There was something irresistible about bringing out the gentler side of him that I knew few people got to see.

Even though we were at a bistro-style restaurant, Vincent still managed to level up and score us a private room, which meant we could get as rowdy as we wanted.

And Paul’s friends were fun with a capital F.

“Hey, Vincent,” Dominic yelled down the table. “Have you told Piper about the time you got locked out of our dorm and had to climb up the side of the building Spiderman-style to get back in? And how you accidentally picked the RA’s window to climb through, and the only way she agreed to not report you was if you joined her chess club?”

“Don’t laugh, it turned out to be surprisingly fun,” he chuckled. “But I was too busy telling her about the time you mixed that disgusting tequila drink in a thirty-gallon trash can before the homecoming bonfire, and how you ended up jumping in it at the end of the night and said you were…what did he call it? The Baron of Booze?”

“The Titan of Tequila,” Aiden yelled down the table. “And now look at him. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy!”

Vincent leaned closer to me. “Dominic is the marketing director for Elixir—Aiden’s the CEO. Those guys are unstoppable.”

I loved the admiration in his voice. It was fun to see how far his guard dropped with his friends. He was quick to laugh and offer an anecdote, but he always made sure to fill me in so I understood the references.

Vincent made me feel like I was a part of this tight-knit group of old friends, and they welcomed me with open arms.

The whole table seemed happy to be together again, with the only exceptions being Paul and Chloe. They were in their own world, whisper-bickering at the far end of the table as the rest of us laughed and swapped stories. I noticed Vincent studying them, wearing a grim expression.

I leaned over and bumped my shoulder against his. “You worried about them?” I nodded toward the happy-ish couple.

He frowned. “Yeah, a little. It shouldn’t be this tough, you know?”

“Weddings are bumpy—it happens,” I reassured him. “Once they get through the big day, they’ll be fine.”

Vincent held my gaze for a moment, like he had more to say. I wished I had a clue about what went on in that head of his, but then again, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know more of his feelings about marriage.

“What?” I demanded.

He shook his head, and his face relaxed again. “Nothing. All good.”

“Hey Vinny-baby,” his friend Trent yelled down the table.

Vincent scowled at what must have been an old nickname. “Yeah?”

“When are you taking Piper to meet Nana Dee?”

He glanced at me. “Soon. Very soon.”

“Good,” Trent replied. “Because it’ll get her off my back. She keeps hounding me to settle down and give her grandbabies. Better you than me.”

Vincent choked on his drink. “Now hold on a minute.”

Everyone dissolved into laughter at the thought of Vincent running front for Trent. The rest of the meal was basically a comedy skit as the old friends tried to outdo one another with stories about how stupid they were during their college years. I didn’t believe Vincent would ever agree to go streaking, but Aiden managed to dig up a grainy photo that sure looked like a younger Vincent running across the quad, his white cheeks glowing in the darkness.

Did I study the image way longer than I needed to? Maybe.

A few hours later, we’d all nearly forgotten the reason why we were gathered until Paul pulled me aside on the way out.

“Hey, thanks for stepping up to help Chloe. She’s, uh, she’s sort of a mess these days.”

“It’s totally fine, I get it,” I replied. “You’ve got the New York Times covering the wedding, and Chloe told me a bunch of influencers are coming too. She needs it to be perfect.”

Paul sighed and leaned against the wall in the narrow corridor. “I wish we could scratch everything and go to the courthouse instead. The only thing that really matters is the two of us and not dress colors and chair sashes.”

“You actually know what a chair sash is?” I laughed. “You’re in deep.”