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HOLDEN

The morning after the gala, I woke up to my phone screeching. It took me a solid few seconds to realize the god-awful sound was actually just my usual ringtone and the angry vibration of the device against the old, wooden desk I’d left it on.

Groaning as I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow, I swore to myself that I would never drink champagne again. My mouth tasted like rotten grapes and something sour, and there seemed to be a construction crew remodeling the inside of my skull.

Beer, I could drink entire kegs of. Even wine was okay, but squirt some bubbles in there and I was fucked. Completely.

Blindly reaching out, I fumbled across the wood until my fingers finally crashed into the device. When I lifted my head, I squinted against the bright screen, then sat up way too fast when I realized it was nearly eleven in the morning.

I’d overslept by more than four hours and I would’ve kept doing it if not for Ryan, who appeared to be hell-bent on getting hold of me. A low growl tore out of my lungs at the pain in my head when I lay back down and took the call.

“I swear, if this isn’t an actual, life-or-death emergency, I’m going to find you and rip off⁠—”

“Wow. Remind me never to wake the beast before noon again,” Maggie said cheerfully over the line. “Rough night, huh?”

I rubbed my eyes but didn’t even try reopening them. “Maggie? Why are you calling from Ryan’s phone? He’s okay, right?”

“Oh, from the sounds of things, I’d say he’s about as okay as you,” she explained lightly. “Although he’s been in the shower for about fifteen minutes, and whenever I go in there, he just makes these noises like he’s dying.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

She laughed, the sound slicing through my brain like an icepick. “Why is it that you boys can handle anything other than champagne? Give any Thayer outside of Jane more than a glass and you’re down for the count.”

“I think Isaac does okay on the stuff,” I muttered, my mouth drier than the desert. “Maybe Colin too.”

“Fair enough.” She paused for a beat. “That makes it even funnier. I would’ve thought that you younger Thayers would be able to handle more, not less.”

“Is there a purpose to this call?” I asked. “Other than giving me shit about evil bubbles, I mean.”

“Oh, yes,” she said brightly. “Of course. Look, Ryan and I are still in town for the next few days. I didn’t want to fly in only for the gala. That seemed like such a waste. Did you know the carbon footprint of a⁠—”

“Mags, I love you, but for the love of all things hungover, land the plane.”

She laughed again. “Fine, I’ve been conspiring with your nephew while everyone else is trying to hydrate and we both agree that it would be a crime against humanity to miss the Halloween festival happening just outside the city tomorrow.”

“Okay, have fun.”

“No, not just have fun. We’re all going. Cameron and I want the whole family there. No excuses will be accepted.”

A harsh sigh rattled out of me. Maggie had an insatiable, almost alarming appetite for all things weird. The more eccentric, the better.

While personally, I’d rather swallow a handful of thumbtacks than go to a Halloween thing, the thought of disappointing Cam was like a tactical weapon used directly against me and Maggie sure knew how to wield it.

“Is there going to be food?” I mumbled. “I’ll only go if there’s food.”

“There’s funnel cake, Holden. That’s even better. I’ll text you the address. Just bring your wife and don’t you dare die between then and now. It’s only a bit of champagne. You can do this.”

Before I could argue, she hung up and I groaned but accepted my fate. I also accepted that I must’ve developed a severe allergy to expensive champagne at some point, because if I didn’t get a gallon of water and at least two gallons of coffee into my body very soon, tomorrow’s family outing was going to be visiting me in the hospital.

It took a minute to convince myself to climb out of bed, but I finally managed to do it, padding down the hallway thinking I was going to win the prize for being the most hungover in this house today until I heard loud snoring coming from below. When I got downstairs, I located the source and smirked, deciding that I might not win that prize after all.

Tasha was passed out on the couch, still wearing a glittery black cocktail dress and high heels strapped to her feet. Her mouth was slightly open, makeup smeared across her face, and she seemed to have her bathrobe wrapped around her shoulders like a cape.

“Whatever you do, don’t make any sudden moves,” Alicia stage-whispered from the kitchen. “If you wake her, she’ll demand greasy food, strong coffee, and an explanation for why the world is spinning.”

I turned to see her standing by the island, wearing a giant, ratty pink sweatshirt that swallowed her whole and a pair of fuzzy, plaid pajama pants. Her hair was gathered into a birds’ nest of a topknot and she was blinking against the light streaming in through the windows.

Like me, she looked completely worse for wear, but unlike me, she was beautiful even as a hungover mess. I strode toward her, leaning my forearms against the counter as I held her gaze. “Good morning, wife.”