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“She’ll be fine. She already planned on heading back to Atlanta with me after Sunday dinner.”

The door cracked open and I stood up, not wanting whoever it was to see me feeling so weak and confused. Only my brothers got to see that side of me.

Blue stepped in, her hair a little wild, her eyes lit up from laughing. She took one look at Easton and smiled, but when she looked at me, she froze mid-step.

“Everything okay?”

Easton grinned and opened his arms. I almost forgot that he knew Blue, probably better than I did. “Welcome to the family.”

“Oh,” Blue laughed quietly, “So he told ya, huh?”

“I saw the ring,” he mentioned as he gave her a hug. “I came to get the scoop, and boy did I.” He backed away and then looked between us before grabbing the door handle to leave. “I will see you lovebirds on Sunday. Virginia Beach, here we come.”

He left and Blue looked over at me, one hand on her hip and her eyes wide. “Virginia Beach?”

I rubbed my face. “Apparently.”

“I can’t–” she started to say, but I cut her off.

“If I can make Pina Coladas all night, you can join my family and me at a fucking concert.”

“Concert?”

I quickly explained, and to my surprise, she perked up and looked kind of excited.

“I’ve never been on a plane. I’ve never been to a concert.”

“You’ll have fun,” I nudged her. I’ll make sure of it, I thought to myself.

“What if your family doesn't like me? There will be nowhere to run.”

They would. My brothers already knew her and loved her, Gramps and Grams would adore her, I had no doubt about that. Jesse and Loxley were amazing women that would make her feel welcome and part of the family. There was nothing to worry about.

Except for it being one more real experience, one more thing that could risk the entire lie unraveling and taking whatever fragile thing we’d planned down with it.

Chapter Twenty-One

BLUE

West never madeit back out to the bar.

He let Tuffy and me shut everything down while he stayed holed up in the office doing whatever it was rich people did. Judging by the steady clicking of his keyboard and the crease in his brow every time I passed the open door, he was probably moving decimal points on some spreadsheet.

By the time the place emptied out and the last tips were counted, it was almost two in the morning. I wandered back toward the office and threw myself down on the couch with a loud, theatrical groan. My legs ached, my back hurt, and my brain felt like it had been shoved into a bowl of tequila. West didn’t even acknowledge me at first, which was fine. I could only assume he was solving a serious crisis.

But after a few minutes, I had a burning question. One that wouldn’t let me rest until I heard the answer.

“So you seriously tended bar for a while?” I asked, cracking one eye open.

He smiled but didn’t look away from his screen. Just kept clicking.

“Seriously, West. That was impressive,” I said, shifting so I could face him. “Having you back there actually made the night go smoother than any Friday we’ve had in a while. Even with the crowd.”

He held up a finger, signaling for one more minute. I sighed and leaned back again, letting my head rest on the arm of the couch.

A moment later, a loud chime erupted from his computer, followed by a round of fake applause and a robotic crowd cheering, “Yay!”

I sat up. “Let me guess. You have your own applause button for every time you make another million dollars?”