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Emilia
The dinner is delicious. After we finish stuffing our bellies, we all head to the area of the living room housing two enormous L-shaped couches. Eric immediately arranges the cushions behind Pippa’s back so she’s comfortable, and it’s clear he’s doting on her all the time. They are precious together.
“Nadine and I have news,” Logan says after everyone’s seated. “We finally set our wedding date. It’s in September.”
“Congratulations.” Ava hugs Nadine tightly, smiling at Logan. Everyone takes turns congratulating them and pestering them with questions about location and other details.
“Nothing’s set in stone,” Nadine repeats with infinite patience. “But I’d like a small wedding at the old ranch, like Pippa’s.”
“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Logan kisses her forehead, patting her leg. “I want a big splash. I thought we’d agreed on it.”
“We’re still negotiating,” Nadine tells the room. “But from time to time I like to let him think he’s won.”
Everyone roars with laughter, and Ava whispers to me, “That’s the secret with the Bennett brothers. Always let them believe they’re in charge. Ouch.” She all but leaps off the couch, rubbing her arm vigorously where a grinning Sebastian pinched her.
“Emilia has enough experience dealing with Max,” Mrs. Bennett says knowingly. “They were inseparable as kids.”
“Yeah, you were at our house all the time,” Christopher says. “You were the first adopted Bennett.”
“What do you mean the first?” I’m genuinely confused.
“We use that nickname for other good friends who became close to the family. You started the trend,” Christopher explains, and it’s the weirdest feeling, as though I’m talking to Max, but also not talking to Max.
“I started a thing?” I whisper to Max. “I’m so proud of myself right now.”
Max places an arm around my shoulders as he delves into a talk with Blake, who sits on the other side. I smile, soaking in his warmth and the energy and happiness floating in the room. A while later Eric and Pippa give us a tour of the house, which is as impressive as I imagined when I first saw it from the outside.
“I still can’t believe you’re a painter,” I tell Summer honestly as Max and I are preparing to leave. Summer and I are outside, a few feet in front of the door, while everyone else is still inside. She’s showing me photos of her latest creations on her phone. “They are amazing. I especially like this one. The sunflowers are gorgeous.”
“You can have it. Tell me your address and I’ll send it tomorrow.”
“I couldn’t. I’m sure you sell them for a lot of money.”
“I always gift family and friends any paintings they like,” Summer says sweetly. “If you don’t tell me your address, I’ll ask Max.”
My eyes widen. “I see the bossy trait runs in the family.”
“That it does,” Max booms behind us. Grinning, I swirl around on my heels and place my palms low on his chest. Unable to help myself, I allow my hands to roam up to his neck, my body humming at his nearness, at feeling his hard muscles beneath my fingers. I’m about to give him a quick peck on the lips when I register the color of his shirt: dark green. Max was wearing a black one. I freeze on the spot. Raising my gaze, I notice the slightly shorter haircut. Oh, no, no, no.
With a trembling voice, I ask, “Is there any chance you changed your shirt and got a haircut in the span of five minutes, Max?”
“Wrong brother, sweetheart. But don’t stop on account of that. My brother owes me. Still have to kiss his girl once to get even. Feel free to continue to feel me up. I was enjoying it.”
“Christopher,” Summer says briskly. “Not funny.”
I’d forgotten she was here. Stepping back, I drag my hands down my face. I can’t believe I almost kissed my boyfriend’s twin brother. I’ve never felt more ashamed in my life.
“What’s going on?” The voice belongs to Max himself, and he sounds pissed. Rightfully so. I stare at a spot on the floor, unable to meet his gaze just now.
“You just interrupted a near-make-out session,” Christopher informs him. Nudging me with his elbow, he says, “If he annoys you too much, you can always dump him and take me instead.”
After the awkward moment passes, Max and I bid Christopher and Summer good-bye and walk to the car in silence.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur once we’re inside his car. Instead of gunning the engine, Max slips his thumb under my chin, lifting it.
“Look at me,” he says in a soft voice. Biting my lower lip, I do as he says.
