Tate bends down and gives Maddy and Hazel a kiss on the cheek as the girls practically levitate with excitement. It’s the first time I’ve seen Maddy look that happy, and it’s because of my sister. She has that effect on people—well, not me because she’s a pain in my ass, but on everyone else around her.
“What’s your dream wedding?” Zoey asks Iris.
I don’t turn my head, but I’m totally eavesdropping. Is she the type that wants the big, lavish affair? Probably. That would be my luck. I’m a simple guy, and something like Tate and Wylder just had would be plenty. I’d be fine if it were only the two of us.
Whoa.
I almost stop breathing as I realize my mind went there. Iris and I have only known each other for a month. How in the world am I already putting thought into such an important event? We haven’t even said I love you yet.
Do I love her?
I do. The best parts of my days have everything to do with her. Whether it is a text, phone call, or sitting on the couch to watch a movie, everything with Iris is perfect. It frightens me sometimes too. I’ve never been as comfortable around someone, and it was never this easy.
“I’ve always dreamed of a small ceremony on the beach, even if it’s only the two of us. Something simple,” Iris replies, surprising the heck out of me.
“Eloping is hot,” Zoey says.
Who the hell says that? My cousin, of course. The free spirit. She’d elope and probably not even tell anyone about it until after the fact, causing an uproar in the family for hiding something so big.
“You think?” Iris asks Zoey as she reaches for the champagne glass on the table.
“Totally. Shoes or no shoes?” Zoey says.
“No shoes.”
My inside recoil at the thought. The only thing I hate more than walking through the snow is shoving my feet in sand. It gets everywhere and sticks to my skin far too easily.
“Sandals, at least,” I add, wading into their conversation.
Zoey wrinkles her nose. “Still not over your sand issue, cousin?”
I shake my head. “Never will be.”
Iris turns her dark eyes toward me with the corner of her lips turned up. “Sand issue?”
I shrug. “It gives me the creeps.”
Iris chuckles. “It’s nice to know you have one flaw.”
“Flaw?” I ask and bark out a laugh. “It’s hardly a flaw. I don’t think most people like sand on their feet.”
“I’d wiggle my toes in warm sand every day if I could.”
My lip curls. “You could torture anything out of me like that.”
“Noted,” Iris says with a small laugh. “I hope I never have to use that method, but it might be worth a few laughs.”
I raise an eyebrow, hoping she’d never be that mean and that I’d never give her a reason to beeither. “You have to have something that gives you the icks.”
“Hmm,” she mutters as she lifts the champagne flute to her lips. She stares at me as she takes a tiny sip. “Those weird washcloths.”
Weird washcloths? It takes me a moment, and then it dawns on me. I hate them too. “Microfiber,” I whisper. “I hate those too.”
“Ah. You two weirdos make the perfect pair,” Zoey says as she raises her champagne glass in our direction.
“Zip it,” I tell her, but I’m joking, and I know she is too. Zoey is the epitome of quirky.
Hazel comes barreling toward me out of nowhere, and before she can collide with me, I open my arms, hauling her close. “Hey, bean. What’s up?”
