Page 2 of Take Me (Cherry Blossom Lake #5)

That’s a lie.

I mean, I didn’t date other people.

It’s anyone’s guess what Annabelle’s game plan was.

Over dinner last night, she let me down gently. “It’s not you, it’s me.” She looked deep in my eyes, twisting the knife in my gut. “I just don’t think we should keep flogging this dead horse.”

“Are vets allowed to say that?” I forced my face to form a smile. “Or wait—was that a sex euphemism?”

“Mason.” The sympathy in her eyes made it worse. “Could you be serious for one second?”

“Okay, seriously—can we keep having sex?”

The answer was no, in case anyone’s wondering.

My sister’s soft voice pulls me back to her kitchen. “Are you positive you’re all right?” She sets a glass on the counter for milk. Probably worried I’ll drink from the carton, which—okay, fair.

“I’m great.” I dump milk in the glass and chug it like beer, refilling again before she can protest. “How long do we have until Harper gets home?”

Lucy looks fretful but doesn’t push. “Another thirty minutes, maybe. I should have texted to say she was running late, but we had this wedding crisis and?—”

“Let’s fix it.” Shoving the milk in the fridge, I head back to the table. “Move aside, ladies. The calligraphy master is here.” I snatch the pen and a candle, turning the label to face me. With a flourish, I execute the perfect curlicue B before rides . “Boom!”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding.” Erika leans in to peer at my work. The others are talking, not paying attention to us. “That’s really good.”

“Hot, right?” Here goes the inappropriate joke. Gotta have one, right? “Chicks dig a guy with a big, thick, eight-inch long…calligraphy pen.”

Erika hands me another candle. “I saw that scrawled on the bathroom wall.”

“In calligraphy, right?”

“Duh.” She watches me ink another bold B. “I’ve also got bad news for you if you think that’s what eight inches looks like.”

Burn. I dig that about Erika.

“I prefer cans as my unit of measure—comes with the territory, owning a brewery.”

Cass and Zoe look curious, but Erika rolls her eyes. She’s heard this one before.

“Cans?” Zoe asks.

“Yep.” I grin and get another eyeroll from Erika. “My junk isn’t huge—only the size of a beer can—but man, is it long.”

“Gross.” All three of them say it, but Erika’s the only one delivering the word like a compliment.

The other two turn back around, but Erika watches me ink letters on the candles. “How did a guy with biceps like hams get so good at delicate lettering?”

“Mom taught us.” I’m secretly pleased she’s admiring my arms. “Before she ran away from home, I mean.” Whoops, didn’t mean to get grim. “I’ve always been the best at it.”

“No lie,” Lucy says, sitting back down. “How many straight men do you know who own a successful business, can deadlift kegs without breaking a sweat, and can also do this ?”

I do a show-offy twirl with the pen and move to the next candle. Erika picks up the one I’ve just finished.

“I’ve never been good at stuff like this.” She nibbles a bitten-down fingernail. “I tried to write Neil a love letter when he was in Baghdad. I got this pretty pink pen and lavender oil to spray on the paper. Spent hours trying to make my writing look cute.”

“Yeah?” I can’t picture Erika spritzing perfume on a letter. “How’d it go?”

“He had to call and ask what it said.” She laughs, but it sounds kinda shaky. “Couldn’t read my writing.”

Neil is her ex, by the way. The dickhead who dumped her on the dance floor at Zoe and Cal’s reception. In that two-second lull in The Replacements’ song “Can’t Hardly Wait,” the whole fucking room heard Neil Eastman blurt, “We need to break up.”

I was dancing with Annabelle, so stupidly sure we were on a path to forever. The dumb thing is, we didn’t break up.

How could she dump a guy who wasn’t her boyfriend?

“Erika, hon.” My sister puts a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, sweetie. This was insensitive of us, asking you to help with the wedding stuff.”

“God, you’re right.” Cassidy winces. “We’re such jerks. Between my wedding and Zoe’s and?—”

“And mine.” Lucy shoots me a frantic, help us look.

“Neil’s a dumbass.” I reach for another pink candle.

Lucy sighs, but Erika laughs as she stacks my finished candles back in the box. “He’s not a dumbass. He just didn’t want to be with me.”

“Like I said, dumbass.” I mean, come on. Erika’s smart and funny and hot, if I’m allowed to say that about my childhood pal. Why the hell wouldn’t Neil want to be with her?

My sister’s still stuck at the pity party. “I know I asked you to be a bridesmaid,” she tells Erika, “but that if that’s too emotional after what you’ve been through?—”

“It’s not,” she assures my twin. “I absolutely want to dress up in tulle with a giant bow on my ass.”

“Who wouldn’t?” I pick up another candle.

My sister still looks fretful. “I just don’t want things to be too hard on you.”

Erika swallows. “I’m fine.”

“You said ‘hard on,’” I say, which makes Erika snicker.

Lucy ignores me, turning to Sam as she whips out her phone. “What do you think about these for quickie, DIY centerpieces?” She tilts the screen so Max can see, leaving me marking up candles.

Erika leans in again, blond hair brushing my arm as she studies my pen stroke. The fresh, fern leaf smell of her skin fills my head, and I nearly miss what she whispers.

“Save me from friends who love me too much.”

“No joke.” Was it a joke, or an actual request? Either way, I get it. Sucks to have people feel sorry for you.

A shared loathing for being an object of pity is kinda how we became friends in the first place. Even at eight years old, we knew being smothered in sympathy was the absolute worst .

Cassidy exits the centerpiece convo and turns back to Erika. “Seriously, no pressure,” she says kindly. “I know I said yes when you offered to plan the bachelorette party, but please know I don’t expect you to go through with it. Not if it’s painful at all.”

“I’m really okay.” Erika’s voice says she’s trying to be. “I mean yeah, did I think Neil and I would get married? Sure. We’d been together since high school.”

“That’s what makes me so mad.” Zoe balls her fists on the table. “You wasted all those years on a guy who kept stringing you along.”

Color floods Erika’s cheeks. “Things don’t always work out.” She puts some more steel in her voice. “It’s fine. I’m good. I’m already moving on.”

Zoe tilts her head. “You are?”

“Totally.” She sounds almost convincing. “Getting back in the game, putting myself out there. Dating a little, working on myself, finding balance.”

She sounds like a freakin’ self-help book. All we need now is my brother’s fiancée. My other brother’s fiancée, the famous self-help author.

Christ, is everyone engaged?

Brooke would normally be here, but her famous shrink life has her flitting around Hawaii this week. Kaleb went with her. Don’t ask me what my idiot brother has to do with drumming up pre-sales for her next book. A Lover’s Guide to Healing and Joy or some schmoopy title like that.

It really is raining lovebird shit around here.

“Has anyone heard how Kaleb’s trip is going?” Lucy looks instantly guilty. Guess our brother’s romantic vacation isn’t the subject change she hoped for.

“I heard it snowed.” I didn’t really, but that makes Erika smile.

“Guys, really.” Erika stacks another candle in the box. “You don’t have to dance around this. Hearing about happy couples doesn’t bother me.”

It doesn’t?

Because it bothers the shit out of me.

Then she catches my eye, and I know.

We’re both big believers in the fake it ’til you make it approach. She’s faking it hard, and dammit if I’m not right there with her.

Erika glances away, so I turn my attention back to the brides. “So,” I manage, clearing my throat. “Centerpieces, huh?”

Maxine looks up. “If you’re as crafty with a hot glue gun as you are with a calligraphy pen, we’ll take all the help we can get.”

“Can I be Vulvarine?”

“No.” Sam smiles. “But you’ll have our eternal gratitude.”

“Sounds like the next best thing.” I’m whipping through these candles, just a few more to go and?—

“Um, not to make this awkward...” Maxine bites her lip, looking pretty damn awkward. “If you need to update your RSVP, we can still do that by midnight tonight.”

Sam gives me a soft look of sympathy. “It wouldn’t be a big deal, except Annabelle requested a vegan entrée?—”

“—And the caterer charges gobs extra to deviate from the standard menu.” Max winces. “I’m sorry, this is crass. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s fine.” I guess Maxine and Sam don’t know Annabelle beyond her status as my former plus one. “Um, yeah. I mean, Annabelle’s not coming.” God, I hate that sad puppy look they’re all giving me. “But I’ve got another date lined up.”

Lucy blinks. “You do?”

“Yep.” God help me. “A hot one.”

“Who?” Zoe asks. “Do we know her?”

“Is she vegan?” Max asks, getting right to the point.

“Nope. Definitely not vegan.” Now I need a date who eats meat. That shouldn’t be hard, right?

My eyes bounce to Erika’s, hers sea-pebble shimmery and a little bit lost. There’s steel in her spine though, and a clench in her jaw I know well.

We’ve been doing this dance since we were the kids everybody felt sorry for.

Different circumstances, but the same damn aversion to strangers and friends shooting us sad little looks.

Maybe that’s what makes me say it.

“Her. She’s my date.” I feel my hand move, and whaddya know? I’m pointing at Erika Gentry.

My buddy, my pal, my brother’s mechanic. The woman who crushed the Big One’s Darts Championship last week.

A woman who also got dumped.

Erika blinks, then nods. “That’s right,” she says, turning to Maxine and Sam. “We’re attending your wedding together.” She puts a hand on my arm, and it almost feels natural. “He asked me last week.”

“Yep.” I’m liking this story already. “We’ve been dating kinda casually.”

“Wait, what?” Zoe glances between us. “I didn’t know that.”

“We’ve been keeping it quiet.” Erika’s getting into this now. “Didn’t want it to be weird with our friends.”

“Exactly.” This story makes total sense. “Things were never exclusive with Annabelle. She wanted us both to date other people, so that’s what I’ve been doing.”

Erika’s nodding along. “And I’ve totally moved on from Neil.” Under the table, she presses the ball of her foot to my toes. “Mason’s been great for a rebound.”

“And fantastic in bed,” I add, feeling her jolt beside me.

“Yep,” she says, licking her lips. “I am, thanks.”

“You betcha.”

“Very…bendy.”

There’s a visual I didn’t need. My brain feels like someone’s rubbing it hard with a bar rag, but I can’t stop now. This is great. This is perfect .

“So yeah, we’re all set for Sam and Maxine’s wedding.” Time to bring this train into the station. “You don’t have to worry about either of us. Or a vegan entrée.”

“Great,” Sam says, smiling.

Maxine beams, too. “Great.”

My evil twin gives me a look I know well. We’ll be discussing this later . “Great.”

Threading my fingers through Erika’s, I lean into the lie. The hand that’s in mine feels steady and solid, callused and broader than Annabelle’s.

But the warm, hollow core of her palm feels smooth as the seashells I’d hold to my ear as a boy, soothing myself with the shush of the ocean.

My eyes slide to hers, and I fight back an urge to seal this whole plan with a kiss. To claim Erika’s mouth, those rosebud lips parting as her tongue dampens that plush bottom lip.

“We’re excited,” she says, and I think for a second she’s feeling it too. “Can’t wait for the wedding.”

“All the weddings.” My heart’s thudding now, revved by the thrill of our unfolding plan. By something else I can’t name. “This is gonna be great.”

“Amazing.” Squeezing my hand, she presses her toes to the top of my foot. The pressure gets stronger, pulsing up my leg with a strange mix of pleasure and ache.

Looks like we’re in this together.