"Big talk for someone who ate ramen for a week because he spent his grocery budget on a limited-edition gaming keyboard."
"That was an investment." His thumb hits that exact spot that turns my spine to liquid "Please? I'll throw in unlimited foot rubs."
"Bold of you to assume these aren't already unlimited." But we both hear the 'yes' in my voice. Because it's Caleb, and when have I ever been able to say no to those dimples? "You know I would've agreed without the bribery, right?"
Something soft crosses his face, gone so quick I almost miss it. "Yeah?"
"Of course." I wiggle my toes against his palm. "Besides, someone needs to run interference when you inevitably try to hook up with a bridesmaid."
"I would never." His grin turns wicked. "Okay, I would. But not this time. Gotta focus on my best man duties and all that."
"Best man?" I sit up straighter. "You didn't mention that part."
"Yeah, well." His fingers grow still on my ankle, that familiar mask of humor slipping for just a second. "Surprised me too. Pretty sure Sarah talked him into it. You know, 'Let's give little brother something important to do so he doesn't crash the wedding by accident.'" He waggles his eyebrows. "Though, joke's on them.NowI have access to the seating chart AND the champagne inventory. Think of the possibilities."
I see the hurt he's trying to bury under that crooked smile. The way he misses his brother even while pretending not to care.
"Or he just wants his brother standing next to him," I say softly.
"Right." He snorts, but his thumb resumes its circles on my ankle, softer now. "Because that's totally Matt's style these days."
Before I can decide if I should prod that particular bruise, Salem chooses this moment to launch a sneak attack, turning his thigh into a scratching post with terrifying accuracy.
"Son of a—" Caleb jerks, nearly dumping my feet on the floor. "Your demon cat still hates me! After everything we've been through!"
"He's protective." I bite back a laugh as Salem struts away, tail high with victory. He looks like Caleb after winning an argument—all smug satisfaction and zero remorse.
"Protective? He's trying to murder me! I've done everything to win him over. I bring him treats." Caleb ticks off on his fingers. "Learned his favorite chin scratch spot. Spent forty dollars—forty dollars—on that fancy organic catnip from that boutique pet store you love."
"Which he appreciated."
"He shredded the bag and left it on my jacket!"
"He has very high standards." I try to keep a straight face. "He gets it from me."
"I let him sleep on my chest that time I crashed here duringthe storm!"
"He was using you for body heat. And you snore."
"I do not—" He cuts off as Salem circles back, yellow eyes locked on Caleb's thigh like he's calculating trajectory. "Don't you dare, you furry little sociopath!"
The doorbell rings, saving Caleb from round two of Salem's vendetta.
"Food's here!" I jump up. "I'll get plates if you get drinks?"
"Deal." Caleb heads to my kitchen, giving the cat a wide berth. "But I'm not sharing my kung pao chicken this time!"
"You always say that," I call back, grabbing my wallet. "And you always do!"
"Hey, mind if I crash here? Don't really feel like going home tonight," he shouts as I head to answer the door.
"Like you even have to ask." I glance back. "Your toothbrush is still in the bathroom, and you know where the extra blankets are if you get cold."
And that's how it's always been with us. Chinese food and horror movies. His feet on my coffee table, and Salem plotting his demise. The easy rhythm of a friendship that makes more sense than it should.
Yet . . . the fact that he wants me there, at his brother's wedding of all places, makes something warm settle in my chest. Though knowing Caleb, he'll probably try to show up in Crocs.
"This one makes melook like a cupcake that got emotionally neglected." I twist in front of the full-length mirror, my curves managing to both overflow and get swallowed by yards of pastel tulle. The late Saturday afternoon sun streaming through Pixie & Posh’s bay windows, highlighting every place this dress clearly wasn't designed for someone shaped like an actual woman. "Like a cake that lost its decorator to a breakdown."
