“It always does,” Zoe fawns, pausing the motion of her knife to let Mac steal a kiss as he passes by her. We work in silence for no more than ninety seconds before a panicked shriek rings through the inn, and I’m running in the direction of it faster than I can blink.
“Don’t go up there, man!” Mac yells after me, desperately trying to stop me, but I can barely hear him over the blood pounding in my ears.
When I reach Phoebe, she’s standing in the hallway, mortified expression and beat-red face as she leers at one of the doors, and I’m about to ask her if she’s okay when said door swings open and Brian marches out with a sheet around his waist, face equally red and angry.
“What the hell, Phoebe?” he yells.
“Why wasn’t the door locked?” she screams back.
“Let it go, B!” I hear Trista practically begging from inside the room, but I know just as well as she does to stay clear. Getting between those two in a sibling fight is the dumbest move in the history of dumb moves. Also, I’m transfixed on the epic dragon tattoo wrapping around Brian’s torso.
“Why would you walk in without knocking?” he matches her volume.
“Why would you have sex in an unlocked guest room?” Phoebe raises her voice even more.
“Because I didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to walk into a newlyweds’ room without knocking!”
“Fuck!” I hear Trista swear a storm as she clamors inside.
“Shit, Phoebe—” Brian begins what I assume is an apology, but Phoebe’s cold, angry gaze stops him.
“Breakfast is in fifteen minutes,” she hisses, turning on her heels and stomping right past me.
“Uh, congratulations?” I offer when Brian’s eyes land on me.
“Thanks,” he monotones before sighing. “This is really bad.”
Just then, Trista bursts out of the room, looking in complete disarray with her honey-blonde hair in a cloud, a mix of her and Brian’s clothes thrown on.
“Andy,” she acknowledges me, then smacks Brian’s arm. “You’re such an ass sometimes, B,” she fumes before storming back into the room.
“I’ll see you downstairs,” I offer in sympathy. “Awesome tattoo, by the way.”
“Yeah,” he grimaces. “Wish me luck.”
I reply with a nod before following Phoebe downstairs. This is going to be an interesting meal.
Chapter Nineteen
Andy
“Holy crap!” I find myself suddenly understanding Phoebe’s choice of repeated words whenever she tastes something new in town. There really is no other way to describe the sheer heaven that is Mac’s cooking.
“You said that already,” Mac points out, distracted by the tension around the table.
“What is—” Leanne begins, but stops when I shoot her an alarmed glare. “—the salad doing way over there? Pass it over, please.”
I give her a relieved nod and pass her the bowl, patting Trista on the shoulder in encouragement, and she smiles weakly, pushing her food around her plate as she tugs at the edge of her braid.
Brian and Phoebe are in a war of menacing stares, and Zoe’s just inspecting everyone around the table while she eats. Me? I’m shoveling food down fast, knowing it’s only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose.
This has been going on for about ten minutes, and tensions have been rapidly rising.
“Momma, I want more broccoli pie, please,” Bodie requests, and for ten seconds, everyone seems to soften as Mac serves the four-year-old another slice.
“There you go, little buddy.” Mac ruffles Bodie’s curly bright-brown hair, causing the boy to laugh with glee before grabbing his little fork and digging in.
Okay, I officially like the guy.
Despite the momentary lapse, it doesn’t take long for the heavy tension to settle in again, and judging by Phoebe’s clenching fists, I figure it won’t be long now.
And just as I predicted, it takes just another three minutes and Zoe asking Trista why she isn’t eating for Phoebe to lose it.
“You got married?” she bellows, her angry gaze turning to Trista.
“Okay, Bo, I think it’s time for some fresh air.” Leanne grabs Bodie and hurries out the door toward the garden, Mac and I following, stopping only long enough to drag Brian with us.
“I should be in there with her.” He paces through the patio.
“It’s between the three of them,” I tell him. “You know better than anyone not to get in the middle of BFF business.”
“Dude, did you really get married?” Mac asks almost as if he doesn’t believe it, and Brian nods. “That’s epic.”
“What do you mean?” Brian frowns.
“You waited ten years to get the girl, and then married her, like, twenty-four hours after you did,” Mac explains.
“More like twenty-six,” Brian corrects with a blush creeping up his cheeks.
“Honestly, those two were like a married couple for years,” I taunt Brian, not that he seems to care. “It was just a formality at that point.”
“You think everything’s okay?” Brian turns a worried gaze to the patio doors. “After everything that happened, Phoebe was pretty mad at Tris. I don’t want their friendship to go through that twice.”
“Not the same, B,” Mac deadpans.
“It’ll be okay,” I say, joining the sentiment. “Phoebe’ll get over the anger and go straight to ecstatic in no time.”
“Okay.” Brian seems to relax a bit, and if our pep talk didn’t do the trick, Bodie crashing into him and gleefully yelling, “You’re it!” does, sending all three of us into an impromptu game of tag, that turns into a “toss the toddler like a football” as Bodie shrieks with delight and Leanne sits on the porch with a contented smile.
Phoebe
“You got married?” Zoe stares at Trista with big doe-eyes.
“We didn’t plan it! We got to the hotel in Beijing, and Mikey put us in the honeymoon suite, and we were joking about how he was hinting that we should get married, and then we turned around, and the chapel had just opened and we thought—why not?” Trista tells the story so rapidly I barely manage to follow, her cheeks growing redder with every word until she stops to suck in air.
“You’ve been married for almost three months, and you didn’t tell us?” I can’t stop the shock in my voice.
“I’m sorry,” Trista whispers. “We were going to wait until after your birthday to tell everyone and then have a real ceremony.”
“So, you guys basically got off the plane and tied the knot?” Zoe asks, and Trista smiles, not managing to contain her happiness. It’s so contagious all my anger dissipates in the blink of an eye.
“Yeah, pretty much.” She latches onto the edge of her braid and smooths it between her fingers. “It was almost perfect, aside from you guys not being there.”
“Did Brian at least get you a ring?” I inquire.
“Not yet, but it’s the first thing on his to-do list once everyone knows.”
“Do we still get to be bridesmaids?” Zoe queries.