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He kissed the back of her hand.
“And maybe we’ll watch some horrible movies.”
“NoTwilight,” he said sternly. “You can’t watch the last one without me.”
She bit back a smile. “I won’t. I promise.”
They may not have had a lot of time, but they had this. These moments together when he kissed the back of her hand, when he returned a smile, when everything didn’t seem so hard.
At the airport, Mike got out and grabbed her suitcase from the back seat. “Have a safe flight.”
“Thanks.”
He wrapped one arm around her waist and bent down, kissing her jaw. “And when you get there, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Well,” she said, giving his biceps a squeeze, “you haven’t done all that much, so…”
He guffawed and playfully swatted at her butt when she turned away from him. “Have fun, peaches.”
“See you when I get back.” She offered him a wave over her head, excitement fluttering deep in her belly at the way he watched her, yet she forced herself to face forward. She had her best friends to get to.
Eight hours and one layover later, they were all together again. Screeching and hugging and dancing. Gem arrived with her new pixie cut, Laney brought a bag ofGolden Girlstumblers, and Bronte had a penis tiara.
Chris and Bronte’s house in Studio City was gorgeous, relatively small for the outrageous real estate but with a perfect outdoor space. Twinkle lights hung from the trees over a stone patio that was big enough for a matching set of table and chairs, and the pool, of course, was heated, so at nine o’clock at night, the girls took full advantage.
Chris had taken care of everything. He had hired private transportation and a chef for the entire weekend, gave each of the girls a hug before he kissed Bronte and headed out the door for a quick movie shoot upstate.
“Only three weeks,” Bronte informed them as she refilled her Rose tumbler. “It’s a small arthouse film, at least that’s what Chris said. I still don’t understand what arthouse means.”
“French?” Laney suggested from her perch atop a unicorn floaty, holding the pink cup with Dorothy’s face on it.
“I was going to guess a movie that’s not big budget,” Sam said, munching on a chocolate-covered strawberry, her Blanche cup in the holder of her inflatable lounger.
Gem laughed. “So, not good?”
Bronte flicked her with water. “Hey!”
Gem covered the top of her Sophia tumbler so as not to get water in it as she slipped off her inner tube to head over to the side of the pool, to the plate of vegan treats made especially for her. “Your fiancé really does spoil me.”
“He spoils everybody,” Bronte said, all dreamy.
Laney raised her glass. “And we love him for it.”
“You haven’t changed your mind about bringing Willow to the wedding?” Bronte asked Gem, who shook her head. “You know he spoils her the most. He was hoping you’d bring her. He wanted to get her a little flower girl dress.”
“But you guys aren’t even having groomsmen or bridesmaids,” Sam said, polishing off the last of the chocolate-covered strawberries.
Bronte pointed at her. “Exactly.”
Gem snorted. “How ’bout I put her in a box and ship her to you guys for a few weeks so me and Jason can catch up on sleep and sex?”
Bronte shrugged. “Chris would love that.”
Gem slammed an imaginary gavel. “Done!” Then she tipped her chin to Laney. “How about Bobby? Is he coming?”
Laney kicked her feet, riding her unicorn closer to the edge of the pool to grab a cake pop. “He would never miss a party.”
“So, everything’s good?” Sam asked.
