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“And he does make her happy,” she admits. “It’s just strange that after living through eight years of angst, they finally have their happily ever after.”
“They deserve it.”
“So do you.”
I shrug as the waiter arrives with a tray of glasses. “Thank you.” I take two, handing one to Abigail. “How are you doing with your own happy ever after?”
“It’s off to a good start,” she says lightly.
“What is?”
We turn in unison. Lyra, with my half-sister Sophie, stands behind us. “Is that for me?” She gestures to the glass I’m holding.
“Actually, it’s for me.”
With a lift of her shoulder, Lyra steps around me to the tray and grabs a single glass. “Wait, please,” she instructs and downs the champagne without taking a breath.
What Bo can do with beer, his sister can with champagne.
Setting the empty glass down, she takes two more, giving the waiter a winning smile.
“She’s a bit…unsettled… being back,” Sophie tells me quietly. “Seeing certain people.”
Me. She means me.
Why does that make my stomach tighten like someone’s grabbed hold of it?
“Nice wedding,” Lyra says handing a glass to Sophie. “I’m glad we got to share in this one.”
“I didn’t think you were staying.” Lyra has been back and forth three times, usually only staying a few days at a time, and never giving a good answer to why she can’t stay longer. Events, obligations, and parties keep her busy.
I haven’t heard if there’s a certain someone who is also taking up her time. I know there aresomeones, but none of them seem to last.
“And miss Bo’s weddingagain?” Lyra arches her eyebrows, her smile tight and just a little bitter.
“I wasn’t in charge of the guest list the first time,” I tell her. Lyra has always had the worst case of FOMO of anyone I know, and when she does miss out, she takes it hard and holds grudges.
“No.” Lyra’s gaze drifts over Abigail. “Nice dress.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Lyra smiles without it reaching her eyes. She’s the only one in the family who never corrects when someone calls her that.
“Abigail, I think Hettie is waving at you,” Sophie says.
“She is. I better go check.” She gives me a smile as she moves off, Sophie following in her wake.
“Spencer.” Lyra hooks my gaze over the rim of her glass. I can’t take my eyes off her. It’s always been like that. She drives me crazy but I can’t stop watching her. “What’s going on?”
I gesture to the crowd around us, standing close but giving us a little space, like there’s a pocket of me-and-Lyra in the midst of everything. “Wedding stuff.”
“I meant with you and Abigail.”
Did she actually come right out and ask that? “She’s my friend.”
“Is that all?”
“Feel like telling me what business that is of yours?” I hold my breath in the hope that maybe this time…