At Lane, still testing the limits of his cotton pocket tees with his ridiculous biceps and pecs that I swore got more swollen every time I saw him. Admittedly, it had been a few years since I’d seen him in the flesh, but I reached out and wrapped a hand around one.
“You gotta chill, dude,” I said. “You’re making me look bad.”
“Not hard to do to a washed up QB,” he quipped.
I chuckled, hooking my arm around his neckand ruffling his hair.
When I let him go, my gaze strayed to the twins. Only anyone who knew them well would be able to tell them apart, though the hair helped a lot. Like Lane, Finn preferred to keep the sides shorn close in a high fade and leave the top longer. West liked his long, longer than mine and Trey’s even, the sandy blond strands brushing the collar of his flannel shirt. Aside from that, they were carbon copies of each other, two sides of the same coin.
Next to them stood my littlest brother, Crew. Despite the chill outside, he wore his standard short-sleeved Henley, similar to the ones I favored. It provided a stark contrast to the tattoos engulfing his left arm, most of the ones on his forearm doing their best to cover the severe burn scars he’d sustained in a work accident a few years back.
Before I could open my mouth to officially introduce Delia to everyone, a tiny blonde girl rushed me and launched herself into my arms. In a well-practiced dance, I scooped her up and twirled her around, squeezing her tightly.
I returned her to her feet a moment later, squinting at her. Since the last time I’d seen her, my baby sister had grown a lot, losing the last of her youthful, teenage features and becoming a young woman.
“Who are you and what have you done with Aria?”
My sister rolled her eyes. “I’m twenty-two now, O.”
I glanced up at Mom, feigning shock. With a delighted smile, she said, “Afraid so. Our baby isn’t such a baby anymore.”
“God you guys are annoying,” Aria said.
“There she is,” my brothers and I said in unison, and with a stomp of her foot, Aria disappeared into the crowd in the bar,mumbling about how grateful she was to be old enough to drink.
I met Delia’s eyes through the crowd of my family, and as if sensing we needed a moment, my mom touched my arm and said, “We’ll see you in there,” before ushering my brothers away from us.
In two long strides, my hands were on Delia, crushing her to my chest.
“You did this for me?” I asked into her hair.
She shrugged. “While I’m…annoyedyou didn’t do it yourself, of course I did. They’re important to you, so they’re important to me. You said it wouldn’t be the same without them, so I made sure they were here.”
“Fuck, Whiskey,” I said, pressing my mouth to hers, murmuring, “I love you,” before I pulled away fully.
“Love you more,” she replied. “Now what do you say we go mingle?”
Fingers laced, we proceeded onto the main floor, where our friends and family chatted happily over our custom cocktails. The two bartenders were hard at work, and Brie and Ezra had set up camp near the buffet table, where they’d collaborated on a spread of finger foods and desserts for our guests to enjoy.
In one corner, the twins had matching tumblers of an amber liquid—neat and, if I had to guess, bourbon—deep in conversation with Cal, probably pumping him for financial advice. Near the bar, unsurprisingly, Logan and Lane were talking animatedly about something, Logan gesturing wildly as he told a story, Lane clutching his side as he cackled loud enough that I could pick it out over the din of the crowd.
My eyes swept over the room, landing on my mother chattingwith Leon and Lena, the former perched on the arm of the anal couch, the same spot I’d had his daughter bent over two days before.
I quickly averted my eyes, lest he could read my thoughts from lingering too long.
We celebrated deep into the evening, probably later than we should have, both Amara and Chloe taking turns shuttling people to their various homes and hotels.
Unbeknownst to me, Delia and her family had putmyfamily up in the Villa, so with them taken care of, after we bid everyone good night, Chloe dropped me and Delia off at her house on their way back to the city.
My limbs and head buzzed pleasantly from the alcohol I had consumed, and as Delia went through her nighttime routine, I shed my clothes and slipped into bed, sighing deeply when my head hit the pillow.
“I’m never leaving this bed,” I told her, eyes closed as I sank deeper into the mattress.
“What’s mine is yours, QB.”
“Is that your way of telling me you’re going to force me to take your last name when we get married?” I asked.
My girl barked out a laugh from the bathroom, her head poking around the doorframe a second later. “How much did you have to drink tonight?”
