Someone here was upset. But it wasn’t Genevieve.
Because they were known far and wide as the Miracle Five, every single time the four of them—she, Natasha, Sebastian, and Ben—gathered, the incompleteness of their group wailed like a siren. Genevieve supposed it always would.
Luke had broken off from their group a long time ago. The rest of them respected the bond they shared, and so made time to meet several times a year. Old friends who’d known you since you were in middle school were comforting. Old friends who’d survived the same trauma that you had were essential.
Alone in her sister’s kitchen for the moment, Genevieve choppedan onion in preparation for the dinner they were about to share with Sebastian and Ben on this Saturday night. The pot of chili Natasha had made bubbled sluggishly on the stove.
Natasha was the unofficial administrator of the Miracle Five (minus one), which meant she kept up with everyone’s news, sent birthday cards, and coordinated their get-togethers. Because their hometown provided their only overlapping location of connection, they always met in Misty River. Natasha and Ben lived here. Sebastian was based at a massive hospital in Atlanta but had a house in Misty River that he frequently commuted to via his private plane. Genevieve traveled here regularly to visit her family.
A knock sounded, and Genevieve checked her watch. Seven fifteen. Right on time. Since Natasha was still upstairs, helping Wyatt bathe the kids, she made her way to the front door.
When Genevieve had first arrived tonight, she and Natasha had shoved all the kid paraphernalia into the big chest of drawers and the ottoman with a lid. Thanks to their efforts, Natasha’s living room, dining room, and kitchen now looked less like a day care and more like a Pottery Barn.
Genevieve swung open Natasha’s front door, revealing Sebastian Grant and Ben Coleman. The two men stood side by side on the threshold bearing the dishes Natasha had asked them to bring.
They exchanged hugs filled with familiarity and fondness, then she ushered them inside.
Sebastian had clothed his imposing six-foot-two frame in suit pants and a white dress shirt opened at the neck. His stylishly cut thick black hair complemented his perceptive eyes and angular face.
Ben was the leaner of the two and shorter by three inches. His features were handsome and symmetrical, but not harsh. His long-lashed eyes and quick smile spoke of kindness. He wore his hair shaved close and sported a long-sleeved Atlanta Braves T-shirt.
Both men trailed her to the kitchen. “Natasha will be downshortly,” she told them. “I’m responsible for the chili toppings since my sister only trusted me to chop onion and open bags of Fritos and sliced cheese.”
“What about jalapeño?” Sebastian asked. “Chili is not the same without jalapeño.”
Genevieve plucked a jalapeño from the grocery sack she’d brought with her. “I might have been given the humble assignment of chili toppings, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not good at my job.”
A crooked smile spread across his mouth. “Bravo.”
She knew Sebastian well enough to know that he liked his food spicy.
Ben set a small chocolate cake on the counter, baked, no doubt, by his mother, who liked to spoil the four of them. Sebastian opened a box of cornbread from Tart Bakery in town. Sebastian could always be counted on to bring something wonderful to their gatherings, because he never didanythinghalfway or poorly.
“How’s your family?” Genevieve asked Ben, scooping the onion she’d cut into a serving bowl.
Sebastian snacked on Fritos while Ben brought her up to speed on the large, loud Coleman clan.
Ben was the third of four kids and one of what seemed like a thousand first cousins. His siblings were all married and adding babies to their families the way people added stocks to their portfolios.
“Hey.” Natasha sailed into the room and gave out hugs, then used a wooden spoon to stir the chili. “What’s happened with your career since we saw you last?” she asked Sebastian.
Inevitably, some new and awe-inspiring thing had occurred.
“I was promoted.”
“What?” Natasha asked.
“Again?” Genevieve asked.
“Are my promotions boring you?” he asked dryly.
“I wouldn’t say they’re boring me,” Genevieve answered. “I’d say they’re frustrating me.”
“My great success is frustrating you?”
“It really is,” Genevieve replied with a smile. She and Natasha could afford to tease Sebastian because they’d spent years proving to him how proud they were of him and how much they supported his accomplishments.
“Your great success is frustrating me, too,” Natasha concurred. “My highest aspiration for each day is that my kids nap well.”
