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He answers after two rings. “Hello,” he huffs, then I hear him breathing heavily.
“Hey,” I say, looking down at the phone, “which one of your teammates can I date?”
I look up and see everyone rolling their lips, waiting for him to answer. They don’t have to wait long. “No one,” he grunts and hangs up on me.
“That asshole.” I am the one shrieking right before I call the oldest cousin I have, Cooper.
“Hey, squirt,” he answers right away, “what’s up?” I can hear he is huffing on his side of the call, and I wonder if he’s in the middle of his workout.
“We have the Horton Foundation Gala this weekend,” I start, “and it’s a big deal since it’s the first he’s doing in Dallas.”
“Are you telling me this or asking?” He chuckles. “Because I know.”
I laugh, but it’s a fake one, and everyone knows. “Anyway, I was wondering if maybe you can set me up with someone from the team.” All he does is laugh, almost hysterically, and all of a sudden, I hear Dylan’s voice.
“Gabriella Stone,” he growls, and Abigail is holding her stomach as she laughs silently as she crosses her legs to stop her from peeing.
“Oh, hey, Dylan.” I pretend I’m surprised he’s on the phone, but knowing Michael, he would have called him to give him a heads-up.
“There is no fucking way you are dating anyone,” he declares, and I can picture him saying this with his hands on his hips.
“Hey,” I snap, “your sister is dating one of your teammates.” I point out to him, looking at Abigail, who smiles proudly. “And having his baby.” Dylan groans out now. “Your cousins.” I look at Franny and Vivi. “Are also dating a couple of them.”
“Gabriella,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. “No, he’ll fall in love with you, and you’ll eat him alive.” I roll my eyes. “And then he’ll be all brokenhearted singing Celine Dion songs.” I can’t help but laugh at that one.
“What if he breaks my heart?” I counter, not sure what else to say but also knowing there is no way he will hook me up with anyone on his team.
“Then we have to kill him,” he says so matter-of-factly, it’s like it’s common knowledge. “So it’s a no-go all the way around.”
“Ugh, fine. I’ll do it myself,” I concede before hanging up.
“You can always hire a date,” Franny suggests. “I mean, I think you have to have sex with him, but that’s a plus.”
“I could do with sex,” I admit, looking in the mirror one last time before walking back in the dressing room and taking the dress off. “I could do with sex for sure,” I mumble before I step out of the gown.
Five days later, I’m sitting in a satin robe in the middle of my aunt Allison’s house as we are all getting our glam on. There are about fifteen makeup and hair people working on us.
One room is for makeup, and there is a whole other room for hair. Each room has mirrors with a chair in front of each so we can check what they are doing. I’m sitting in the black canvas chair, drinking champagne as everyone chatters around me. “I don’t think my dress is going to fit me,” Abigail pouts as she sits down in the chair next to me with a bowl of fruit. Her hair is loose and wavy, with one side pinned up.
“What are you talking about?” I look over at her as the girl blow-dries my hair.
“I swear every single day I think I won’t get bigger, and then.” She tosses a piece of strawberry in her mouth. “Then I put on something, and it’s just everywhere.”
“You look beautiful,” I assure her, leaning over to squeeze her leg. “And besides, who cares? Tristan loves you just the way you are.”
She glares at me. “Wrong answer,” she grumbles before throwing another strawberry in her mouth, and I laugh.
“What is the right answer?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink.
“The right answer is you don’t look big at all.” She takes a blueberry.
“I mean, that would be me bald-faced lying,” I reply, and her head whips my way. “You have a human growing inside of you. How are you not big?”
“Okay, I’m going to cut in here,” Franny says, “and not because I don’t enjoy listening to Gabriella dig herself a grave, but because if anything goes wrong, I think Julia is going to lose her mind.” She looks at Abigail. “You look amazing, and you’re glowing.”
“Thank you,” she says softly, and I see her blink away tears. I sit up in my seat and put my champagne glass down when I think she’s hurt. I would die for my family, but I would commit murder for my twin.
“Abi,” I say her nickname, getting out of the chair and hearing the girl who was doing my hair huff out. It takes one look from me for her to smile at me rudely, and I don’t even care. I turn back and look at her. “What’s wrong?”
