Page 318 of Blackwood

He raises a hand in mock defense. “What? I barely knew the guy. Just remember her begging you to bring him to that one pool party.”

“She made brownies,” I say, pointing my fork at Ellie. “Bribery in its purest form.”

Ellie hides behind her wine glass. “He was hot and mysterious and he fixed my laptop without making me feel stupid.”

Cade chuckles. “You swooned because he knew how to bypass parental controls.”

“Don’t mock my type.” Ellie laughs. “He was kind. Always made me feel safe.”

Cal groans. “Good God. What is with you two and brothers?”

That breaks the tension. Laughter spills out across the table. Ellie snorts into her wine, Cade covers his face with his hand, and even Roman’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile.

Cal leans back, eyes gleaming. “Yo. Speaking of you girls and terrible boyfriend choices—remember the prep school twins?”

“Absolutely not.” I groan immediately.

Ellie covers her face. “Cal, shut up.”

“They had a band,” he says, already cracking up. “Remember? A fucking band.”

“They had a damn publicist,” Cade mutters.

I smile into my drink. “They were entrepreneurial.”

“They wore matching pastel polos,” Ellie says. “Like… daily.”

“Had a driver named Philippe,” Cal adds.

“Oh my God,” I laugh. “Philippe used to give us snacks from that chauffeur cooler.”

“Bells, remember when they tried to serenade us at that rooftop party,” Ellie says.

I snort. “Mine played the violin.”

Cal claps. “The violin! That’s right! You dated the one who brought a Stradivarius to that party.”

“His name was Preston,” I add. “He told me I had a vintage soul.”

Cade nearly chokes on his drink. “Babe, he literally cried when you ghosted him.”

“Please, he cried when I asked for still water.”

Lex leans forward, finally speaking. “Wait, how long did this… violinist era last?”

I glance at him at him, eyes glittering. “About two months. I ended things when he tried to quote Hemingway during a massage.”

Savannah laughs, wine glass tilted. “I vaguely remember that one. Didn’t he send you monogrammed love letters?”

I nod. “Scented. With a wax seal.”

Clay mutters, “Christ.”

Cal grins across the table, apparently wanting to keep the chaos going strong. “Remember St. Barts?”

“Oh my God, iconic.” I raise my glass toward him.

“Oh my God, illegal,” Cade adds, already laughing.