“I know that’s not judgment I hear, Gabby Morgan.” Jasmine is using that voice she reserves for the times when she wants you to know that she’s just not going to take any of your shit anymore.
“It’s just…why go alone? On a trip like that?” Gabby asks.
“Because I want to go on a vacation, and I’m not going to sit around waiting for some man to take me.”
“You sound like Callie,” Gabby says.
“Hey,” I reply, with not entirely mock offense. “Leave me out of this.”
“If Callie wants to be man-free, I support that,” Jasmine says, smiling at me. “I work hard. I’m married to my job. Healthiest relationship I’ve ever had, truthfully. I got a promotion, so I’m taking myself on a celebratory trip. My own personal honeymoon, if you will,” she says before taking a sip from the glass of wine she’s holding in her right hand. “And I won’t have to pick up after some slob.”
“A honeymoon without the sex,” Shelby reminds her. Shelby’s level of pervertedness could put a man to shame.
“Girl, I can get the sex without the commitment.” Jasmine smirks in Shelby’s direction. “I’ll meet some Greek hottie and get myself all taken care of. You two can marry off if you want to,” she says, waving her hand dismissively at Gabby and Shelby. “I’m happy by myself.”
I sigh, wishing I could be that sure about my life of self-imposed solitude. I’m doing it more out of necessity than preference. I don’t want a broken heart; Jasmine doesn’t want a commitment. Jasmine comes and sits down next to me, and when I turn my head to smile at her, I catch a glimpse of Nate. Nate, Ben, and their father are over on the patio of the guest house, standing around the grill, beers in hand. Marco and Xavier, Ben’s groomsmen are there too, animatedly talking to Mr. Wright, probably discussing the proper torque in a ’67 Mustang or whatever it is that men talk about when they’re being all manly. Nate looks up at the same time I do, and our eyes meet. He smiles, nodding toward me, and I smile back, a warm rush of nerves tingling all the way down to my toes. Even standing all the way across the yard, he still knows how to get to me.
“Ben’s brother’s testing your vow of celibacy, isn’t he?” Jasmine says softly, so that I’m the only one who can hear her. “I know that look, Callie. You’re in trouble already and you don’t even know it.”
I grin, because she’s wrong, wrong, wrong. I’m in trouble, sure. But I definitely know it.
“So, Emily,” Shelby says, and I feel this sense of dread creeping up inside of me, spreading its icy fingers across my belly. Gabby and I both told Shelby and Jasmine of the Ethan-slash-Emily situation and drilled into them that talk of my history with Ethan is forbidden, but they’ve both got some alcohol in them, so who knows what’ll happen? “How did you meet Ethan?”
I give Shelby a dirty look, but she completely ignores me. I’m not really all that upset about it, because honestly, I want to hear Emily’s answer.
Emily looks across the yard at Ethan, smiling before she answers. “We met at a karaoke bar.”
Jasmine nearly spits out her drink.
“A karaoke bar?” I ask, completely confused. Ethan loathes karaoke. Or, I guess, he used to.
“Yeah. It was a friend’s birthday party. We bonded over the fact that we were the only two who refused to sing.”
It’s ridiculous, but there’s a part of me that’s relieved to know that I was right about the karaoke.
“How long have you been together?” I ask. Gabby glares at me, but I don’t care. She can be surprised all she wants. I’m going to break my own rules tonight, because I just have to know the answer.
“A couple of months,” she says, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s such a pretty woman, and there’s something about her that’s so bright, like she just exudes light. I can see why Ethan would be drawn to her.
“What do you do?” Jasmine asks.
“I’m a speech therapist at an elementary school in Fort Worth.”
“She also paints in her spare time,” Gabby says, chiming in. She says it with such enthusiasm that I wonder if she’s just been biding her time, hoping my curiosity would pique so that I’d start asking her questions like these.
I wait a few beats before I say something. “What do you paint?”
“Landscapes, mostly.”
“Show her,” Gabby says, nudging Emily’s shoulder.
Reluctantly, Emily fishes her phone out of her back pocket and she scrolls through a few photos before she hands the phone to me.
When I see the paintings, I’m stunned. They’re remarkably beautiful even with the cell phone’s awful picture quality. Breathtaking, really. It’s difficult for me to believe that someone I’ve actually met has painted them, which I know is ridiculous.
“Emily,” I say, smiling at her. “These are gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” she says. I can see her blush even under the dim lantern light.
I return her phone to her, and for the first time all night, it seems like none of us have anything to say.
“Can I ask you all a question that I’ve been wondering about all afternoon?” Emily asks, seeming kind of shy. She stands up and takes a seat next to Jasmine, then leans in. I don’t know who she thinks will overhear her, the guys are at least 30 yards away. “That guy over there,” she says, pointing towards the men gathered around the grill. “The one in the red shirt?”
“That’s Marco,” Shelby says.
“Yeah, him. Why does he have a tattoo of a Ring Pop?”
We all bust out laughing, clutching our stomachs, gasping for air. Jasmine’s having the most difficulty catching her breath, because she’s been harassing Marco about that tattoo ever since he got it, and I know she’s got to feel validated right now.
“Marco!” she shouts.
Every single head turns in our direction and Marco yells, “What?”
“Emily here wants to know all about your Ring Pop tattoo.”
Marco’s shoulders slump as Xavier, Ethan and Ben all crack up.
“It’s an ankh, you assholes!” he yells.
Emily shakes her head, grinning. “It’s a Ring Pop,” she says under her breath.
God help me, I like her.
“THIS IS the best hamburger I think I’ve ever had,” Shelby says, tilting her head to lick a piece of melted cheese that’s dripping off of her thumb.
I hum in agreement, remembering that my dad used to tell me that the messier the food, the better it tastes. The memory stirs up an unexpected warmth inside of me, and I tamp it down as soon as it rises up. Memories of my father are seldom good things, and when they are they usually leave as quickly as they came.
“We bought it from just down the street,” Jessa says, and every single member of the Wright family groans, Gabby included.
“I don’t want to think about my food having a face, Jess.” Nate looks warily down at his hamburger, but keeps eating it anyway.
Jessa rolls her eyes. “You always were really sensitive about animals.”
“Not to the point where he won’t eat them,” Marco replies. “He pounded down about fifty sliders at Ben’s bachelor party.”
“What happens in Vegas,” Nate says before taking another bite.
“You went veggie for a while when you were like, ten, right?” Jessa asks.
“Please don’t tell that story right now.” Nate puts his burger down and wipes his hands on the crumpled-up paper towel in front of him.
“What story?” I ask, figuring out that if Nate doesn’t want it told, it must definitely be worth hearing. He rolls his eyes at me, but follows it up with a cute grin.
“Mom, you wanna take this one?” Jessa picks up her bottle of beer and swirls it before taking a sip.
“Back before we built the patio onto the guest house,” Amy begins, smiling, “there was a huge tree back there, and we had a problem with baby birds and squirrels falling off of the branches. Nate always used to watch out for them, and when one of them would fall, he’d build them a little bed by filling a shoe box with old dishtowels. He’d feed them with ear droppers until they were big enough to go out on their own again.”