Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“Our cubs. And it was like a squirt gun shot, bro.”
I blow him a middle-finger kiss.
Oscar’s grin fades. He returns to hawk-eyeing his sister who’s chatting with the bartender across the pub.
Now that Oscar is looking in that direction, I can feel the heat of a pair of eyes on me, and an underlying tension inside this pub pulls taut again. I’m doing my best to avoid the guy who’s trying to bait me at the bar.
Unfortunately, I slip a teeny-tiny glare at him. He’s grinning. One of those shit eating grins.
“Ignore him,” Farrow says quietly beside me.
“I’m trying.” It’s not as easy as it should be. O’Malley is a prick, and God, he gets on my last fucking nerve, which is usually hard for anyone to reach. And I hate that he’s reaching that place. I don’t want him thinking he’s special or anything.
“Oslie rumors have to die down, right?” Quinn asks all of us. He’s on his phone, probably checking the internet.
Oscar tenses at the ship name for him and Charlie. Celebrity Crush just recently ran an article stating SFO is fake, and we’re all dating our clients.
Except they listed Beckett and me as a couple.
I’m also avoiding my ex-client. Beckett is at a high-top table near a window and chatting with Charlie, and the only time I ever look over there is out of the corner of my eye. Not for long either. It clenches my stomach, and I’d rather not feel that feeling.
Like I lost something.
Like I lost someone.
“It’ll be forgotten in a few weeks,” Akara assures. He’s been quiet tonight too. “Don’t worry about it, guys. Most of the ship names haven’t even been trending.”
Some have.
Oslie.
Kitsulli.
“LunaQuinn?” Quinn asks since he must not have looked.
“Defunct,” Oscar says.
“It’s not even a creative ship name,” I state. I wouldn’t ship it.
Oscar turns to me. “What would you have gone with?”
I can’t come up with any combination of Quinn and Luna’s name that I like. I look to my friend. “Make-Believe.”
He laughs.
Quinn even smiles. And it eases the tightness in my muscles.
Jane, Luna, and Sulli all laugh at something, the girls smiling together, and I drink some water and find myself staring. But it’s the happiest place to look at—besides at Farrow, who keeps grinning over at Maximoff.
This is only our second full day in Scotland, and an easy-going vacation has seemed less and less likely. Too many people have dragged baggage on this trip.
Like how Thatcher is pretending to be Banks, so he can’t outright embrace his girlfriend right now.
Tony the Toolbox is on Jane’s detail. (Hate that for her.)
Oscar is more concerned about his little sister this trip than his actual client Charlie.
The Rooster (aka Will Rochester) is here as Sulli’s boyfriend, and Akara’s brows keep wrinkling like he’s been possessed by a jealousy demon.
Akara is also not on good terms with Thatcher, his best friend.
And my status has been Ignore Beckett/Ignore O’Malley since I boarded the plane and we landed in a foreign country.
Despite all that shit, I’m still glad I’ve been invited. Scotland is about location scouting for my best friend’s wedding. And I’ve imagined that day long before Farrow got with Maximoff Hale.
‘Cause I knew Farrow would get married one day. That it mattered to him. It’s what he’s always wanted: a husband to love and who loves him back. A lifelong soul mate in this world. His wedding is one of the brightest spots in the horizon for me, and I’m looking forward to it. Just wish it’d come sooner.
Not years down the line like he keeps saying.
Not sure if I’m gonna be the best man or not, though. It’ll probably go to Oscar.
I return my gaze to the fireplace. Luna’s back is angled towards us, but Jane is looking directly at her boyfriend, and he’s still pretending to be her boyfriend’s identical twin.
My grin spreads. “Cobalt princess is making googly eyes at Banks.”
Thatcher frowns and braves a single peek at Jane.
She beams in response.
Oscar tries not to laugh. “You’ve really done a number on her, Moretti.”
Thatcher grinds his teeth to stop from smiling.
Farrow pops a bubblegum bubble and sees Jane ogling her boyfriend. “Shit.”
“She’s not that obvious,” Quinn tries to defend, but he winces when Jane smooths her lips and clearly eye-fucks Thatcher, her gaze lustful.
“Legitimate googly eyes,” Oscar agrees with me.
Akara assesses. “Yeah, that’s not good.” He pushes his hair back. “Someone needs to go warn her.”
“Not me,” Oscar retracts himself fast. He’s too busy trying to keep an eye on his sister.
“I’m out,” I pull myself out of contention, mostly because I’d rather not be the one to tell Jane she shouldn’t eye-fuck her boyfriend. Seems sad.
“I’ll go, you fuckers.” Farrow stands.
She is gonna be his future cousin-in-law. Oscar and I cheers him with our waters.
Once he’s gone, I break away from the sofas and go to the single-stall bathroom. After a quick leak, I wash my hands, old music thumping through speakers.