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HANNAH
“I’ll have the chicken penne, please,” I say with a grin up at the familiar waitress at Andre’s as I hand her the menu. Not that I need the menu—we come here far too often.
The rest of the table places their order and hands her their menus one by one. As soon as she is out of earshot, the table erupts into chatter, all surrounding Gen and Jackson’s wedding.
Sage and I are both bridesmaids, while Savannah is Gen’s Maid of Honor…or is it Matron? I’m not super sure, I just know it’s not me. I find that both heart-wrenching and a relief all at the same time.
I wish Gen and I were as close as we once were, but I’m thankful for the growth we’ve made. It was bumpy at first, but since I’ve been living in Atlanta full-time we’ve gotten a lot closer again. At the very least, Gen is about to be my sister-in-law, and you can’t trump family.
“Have you thought about silhouettes?” Savannah asks with a grin, resting her chin on her hands, her fingers intertwined.
“Not really.” Gen takes a sip of her water. “I know Idon’t want it to be too boobie, but other than that I’m open to most anything.”
“Why not? You’ve got a great rack. I’m sure Jax would approve.” Savannah chuckles at her own joke as I do everything in my power to keep myself from gagging. I’m not sure I will ever grow used to how flagrantly she talks about my brother, although I know that I wouldn’t bat an eye if Gen was marrying someone that wasn’t my flesh and blood.
The clattering of cutlery fills the air as people hustle to find a seat, pouring in from the street like ants. Bright light floods through the windows, revealing twinkling lights strung between the ceiling beams. Andre’s succulent roast chicken is Tuesday’s specialty and you can smell it all the way from the doorway. It draws a full house even on a weekday at noon.
We all took the day off work after getting back from Vail a few days ago because Savannah was fortunate enough to get Gen an appointment at one of the more exclusive bridal boutiques in Atlanta. Anya Baron’s Bridal Atelier caters exclusively to women from wealthy families, and only a small number are allowed entry into their showroom each month. Getting an appointment requires going through several layers of bureaucracy and is usually as hard as winning the lottery.
In this case, Savannah Newmont is one of those women.
“Can we not talk about my brother’s sexual interests?” I make a disgusted expression before I crack, a laugh falling out of my mouth.
“It’s never ending, she does it about my brother all the time.” Sage matches my grossed-out expression, which causes Savannah to roll her eyes.
“Well, I’m married to your brother. Are you aware of what married people do, Sage?” Savannah lifts her brows with a mocking smirk.
Sage responds by miming a gagging motion, pointing into her mouth.
Our food arrives in surprisingly quick time despite the restaurant being extremely busy. I will never grow tired of their chicken penne. Their cheese sauce gives the pasta a rich creaminess, and the tomato adds an earthy sweetness that just makes me swoon with delight. I nearly moan as the taste invades my senses. It’s literally the best thing I have ever tasted, no matter how common a dish it might be.
Andre is a man after my own heart.
We settle into a rhythm as we discuss details necessary as the time grows closer to Gen’s appointment, which is luckily right around the corner from the restaurant.
“Did everyone have fun in Vail?” Gen asks it as if she is asking about the weather, because I guess to her it’s not quite as weighted of a question.
“Yeah,” I say quickly as I shovel a bite of pasta in my mouth, hoping this conversation falls off fast. I don’t want to relive Vail; I don’t want to think about it. Actually, I would prefer if I could just go back in time and rewrite my choices on the trip. However, the hickey the size of a quarter on my neck is an unfortunate reminder that it wasn’t just a really detailed dream.
“Hannah sure did,” Sage says with a laugh, knocking her leg against mine under the table. I kick her back in response, causing her to yelp. “What? You did!”
I don’t want to talk about this, and the moment all three of their eyes are on me, I find myself wanting to crawl into a hole.
“Justin?” Gen grins, reminding me she already noticed my indiscretion and apparently thinks it was Justin. I can work with that.
The door swings open and nearly slams against the side ofthe old building. The wind is finally starting to dial down compared to last week, but it’s still pretty intense. The gust chills my skin, but not nearly as much as the man the wind dragged in with it.
Liam stands at the bar with a credit card in hand, clearly picking up his lunch.
I must have been a mass murderer in a past life—that’s the only explanation for my luck today.
“Park!” Sage yells, but while I call him by his last name in a negative context, somehow it comes out endearing when she says it.
I need to come up with something different to call him…“ass-wipe” has a nice ring to it.
As Liam approaches, brown paper takeout bag in hand, Savannah picks the worst possible moment to continue the conversation that Sage so kindly started.
“So, who’s Justin?” Savannah asks while shoveling a forkful of salad into her mouth.
