“We’re just going to tell them we’re married.” I try to say the statement with utter surety as I meet Charlie’s eyes where he sits in the passenger seat.
“Whatever you want to do,” he says. Supportive, as always. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Guess this is happening. I climb out of the car.
Dash and Paige’s home is a cute little thing. Not a house I ever imagined my brother living in, but to be honest, I never thought he’d live a domestic life. I just worried about him living, period.
Now he’s married, got a house and a dog and a full-time job he loves. Working on cars, true. But not like Uncle Mike. Dash is legit. Manager of an auto shop. Maybe a strange job for a guy who used to steal cars.
Or maybe the most natural thing in the world.
“Hi!” Paige opens the door before we knock, waving us inside. “Dash and the dogs are out back. Food is in the living room. I made plenty.”
My sister-in-law gives Charlie a one-armed hug around his waist, then leads us through the warmly decorated living space until we reach the sliding glass doors. When we step outside, I watch as my younger brother plays tug-o-war with two pit bulls simultaneously. From the way they whip their strong heads back and forth, trying to wrench the ropes away from him, I know my brother will have sore shoulders tonight.
My eyes go to the round gray dog, and I’m hit with a punch of rightness to see Pig so happy, her body and tail wiggling in joy as she plays.
“Dash! Luna and Charlie are here!” Paige calls out as we linger on the porch.
Dash lets the ropes drop, then scoops up a tennis ball and sends it flying. As the dogs sprint after the new distraction, my brother makes his escape, jogging over to us.
“Hey.” He wraps me in a hug, and I smell motor oil on his clothes. I wonder if that scent is ingrained in his skin now. “Want to say hi to Pig?”
“Definitely.” I follow him, crouching low when the chunky puppy lumbers up to me. “Hey, girl.” I scratch her just under the chin, and she snuffles my shirt. “Miss me?”
I take her doggy grin as a yes.
Charlie and I decided us taking a trip to New Orleans to pick up Pig made more sense than asking Paige to transport her. This way, we can also share the awkward news of our nuptials.
“Time to go inside and eat,” Paige calls out. I give Pig a final pat, toss a squeaky toy across the yard, then follow everyone inside.
There are plenty of places to sit, but I gravitate toward the loveseat where Charlie settled, dropping onto the cushion beside him. When I turn my head, I find him staring down at me, and I offer him a tight smile. This next bit is about to get awkward. Might as well eat before we drop our bomb. I dig into the finger foods Paige arranged on the coffee table.
For a stretch, Dash and Paige talk me through the steps I’ll take for Pig’s adoption, but none of that is complicated, and soon the conversation turns to Charlie and me. Here together.
“Your job doesn’t mind you taking another trip so soon after our wedding?” Paige fiddles with a tortilla chip as she stares at her friend. “I’ve been wanting to visit Luna in Nashville too. But Dash and I have to earn some more PTO.”
Charlie flicks his eyes to me, and I see the message in them.
Time to start easing into the big news.
“The thing is, I quit my job.” There’s a strained note under his normally easy manner.
“What?” Paige yelps.
“Yeah.” Charlie has the grace to appear chagrined as he meets his best friend’s eyes. “It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. And I guess I wanted to tell you when I had a better idea of my next step.”
My fake husband glances at me again, and we both know his next step is going to be the real shocker of the evening.
“That’s ridiculous. I called you when Martin screwed me over, I had no job, and I was drowning my sorrows by watching a continuous stream of baking shows at my parents’ house. You do not need to have your life together to tell me what’s going on in it.” Paige points my way with a dramatic flourish. “And you told Luna!”
“Well, that’s the thing.” Charlie props his elbows on his knees. “Luna offered me a place to stay.”
Roommates is one way to present our new arrangement.
A bout of surprised silence blankets Paige and Dash as the couple glances between us. Then my sister-in-law grins wide, her entire demeanor flipping like a switch.
“You’re living together! That’s fantastic.” Paige turns her attention to me. “Dash thought you would bite Charlie’s head off. But I knew you would be friends.”
“Why’s that?” I can’t help doubting her assumption.
“Because Charlie is friends with everyone. Strangers on the street. The person he sits next to on a plane. The lady behind him in the grocery line.”
“I still could have bitten his head off,” I point out.
“Maybe.” Paige doesn’t seem convinced. “But you’re loyal. And you love me now, and you know Charlie is one of my only friends. I knew you’d try, which means he’d win you over.”
Another silence falls over the room as Charlie grins at me, and I process my sister-in-law’s odd way of speaking. Paige does that. Just offers bald honesty.
And damn, is she perceptive.
Originally, I didn’t get off to a great start with my sister-in-law. Mainly because I only learned about Paige when she and Dash were dealing with a rough part of their relationship.
But since then, the woman has gotten as close to me as I’ll let people get, and I realize she’s right. When I first met Charlie, I knew how important he was to Paige, which is one of the reasons I was a nicer version of myself than I tend to be around strangers.
Still, I bet she didn’t predict what happened between her best friend and me.
“About that whole friendship thing.” I sit up straighter and shove away any hesitation, the way I do with most things in life. “Charlie and I got married.”
While Paige’s eyes grow wide, Dash’s narrow. Both of them showing disbelief in their own ways. Before the pair can start with their interrogation, I keep talking. I lay out my meeting with Uncle Mike, the dollar amount, and how this is the quickest way to get it and get Leo free of the criminal situation.
“Plus, Wai Po was right. I hate the idea of our dad getting the money. That’ll be a nice bonus,” I finish.
At some point during my explanation, Dash buries his face in his hands.
Paige, however, stares directly at Charlie, the two of them having a silent discussion with a connection only years of friendship can create. I turn my attention to my fake husband, wondering if I’ll be able to translate just from his face.
I can’t. And for some reason, I get hit with a spike of jealousy.
But that’s ridiculous. Charlie and Paige have been friends since they were kids, and I’ve barely known the guy for a few months. Of course, the two of them have an understanding of each other that borders on telepathy.
Suddenly, Charlie grins wide, the sudden exposure of his teeth stealing my breath. The man has a smile that can stop a heart. Or restart it.
“Okay. Felicitations.” Paige raises her glass of water, joy coloring her expression. “How can we help?”
“What?” Dash drags his hands from his face, glaring at the three of us, but mainly at me. “You can’t be serious. This is ridiculous.”
“Clowns are ridiculous. This plan is full of potential.” Paige pats Dash’s knee, but the gesture is lost on him as he continues to scowl at me.
“We need to talk. Outside.” My brother shoves up from the couch and storms out the back door.
“Luna—” I wave off Paige’s concern and press on Charlie’s shoulder as I get up, both for balance and to keep him in his seat.
“I’ll deal with him. We’ll be back.”
As I move to step around Charlie, his knees sticking out as a barrier, there’s a pressure on my hand. I glance down to see he’s grabbed it. He gives a light, comforting squeeze before letting go.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” And funnily enough, that small display of support eases tension in my spine.
At least, until I get outside and face an enraged little brother. Well, younger brother to be more accurate, since Dash is a good foot taller than me.
Damn him and his genes.
“This is a joke,” he growls. “Please tell me this is a joke.”
“It’s not. Deal with it.”
“Deal with it?” Dash paces along the edge of the back porch as the two dogs in the backyard watch him. They must have worn each other out because both have sprawled out in the grass, panting heavily, without showing any indication of getting up to say hello.
That’s probably better.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this! I thought you were smarter than this.” My brother says this like I’m the irresponsible one in the family.
My calm demeanor chips away at his accusatory tone.
“This wasn’t some drunk Vegas wedding. Charlie and I talked it out, and he agreed to help. I don’t know why your boxers are in such a twist.”
Dash throws his hands up. “Maybe because my sister got married to a stranger in a futile attempt to save our delinquent brother who doesn’t want to be saved!”
“Get your head out of your ass,” I hiss back. “Charlie isn’t some stranger. He’s your wife’s best friend. And you’re naive if you think Leo doesn’t want out as bad as you did. But Uncle Mike has him in a chokehold. He’s in deeper than you ever were.” I stare Dash down, but he just laughs without humor.
“That’s a fantasy.”
“It’s not. I talked to him. Leo asked Mike about leaving, and the asshole demanded twohundred fifty thousand. The same number the old man told me when I went to argue Leo’s case. Is that how much you had to pay, Dash? Six fucking figures?”
I can tell my brother is clenching his teeth from the way his jaw muscle pops out.
“No,” he eventually admits. Then he points a finger at me. “That doesn’t mean you should do all this. Give up the money that Wai Po left you.”
“Listen to yourself! All this—” I wave back toward his house where Charlie sits. “—is the only way I get that money. Otherwise, it goes to our shitty father. Bill Lamont getting that money would be the opposite of karma, and you know it.”
“Great. Dad won’t get the cash, but the criminal organization he works for will. Have you thought about that? How you’re handing them all that fucking money to fund all their illegal shit?”
“So what?” The question burst from my lungs in a shout as I battle against the defensive anger in my chest. Hell, I’m tired of this argument that I’ve already had a hundred times with myself.
“What do you mean so what? You’re financing criminals!”
“Don’t you get it, Dash?” I step forward, shoving a finger in his chest as if that’ll get my words to pierce his thick skull and drive home my point. “I. Don’t. Care.” I jab with each syllable. “I’m selfish! I don’t care about the random people Uncle Mike fucks over. I care about my brothers. You and Leo. I want the two of you to be safe, and fuck the rest of the world!”
My holler echoes across his backyard, probably traveling the entire length of the neighborhood.
When the reverberations of it dwindle, another shout pierces the night from a few houses down.
“Fuck you too!”
Dash and I blink at each other, his shock no doubt matching my own.
Then suddenly we’re laughing.
All the tension of the situation melts out of us, the anger rising and falling that easily. Because at the core of every shouted word was the massive amount that we care about each other.
And included in that is Leo.
When our hysteria fades away, the night is eerily quiet. Just the sound of crickets and Pig snuffling in the grass in the corner of the yard.
With a deep sigh, I brace myself for the argument to start up again. “Charlie and I are married. We will be for the next year, and then I’m going to get Leo out of the business. I just—” My throat tightens, and I clear it before pressing on. “I need you to not give me shit about this.”
Dash stares at Pumpkin where she snores on the ground in the middle of the yard. He takes his time answering.
“Fine.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Fine.”
A weight lifts that I didn’t realize was dragging me down, and I give into the urge to raise my arms in a shoulder-cracking stretch. Charlie and I made the drive to New Orleans in a day, but it wasn’t exactly short, and now my muscles complain with little aches and pinpricks I try to work out.
“You like Charlie?” Dash asks.
That question has me dropping my arms and glancing at my brother suspiciously.
“I trust him to follow through on this, if that’s what you mean.”
“You two…” He lets the sentence drift off, turning the mystery ending into a question.
“We get along. I think at the end of the year we’ll be good friends.”
“Friends,” he repeats, without inflection.
“Yes,” I say, steel in my voice. “Friends. We’re just friends.”