Patrick is the dick.
And I think Davis would fight anyone who tried to say otherwise.
“Thank you,” I whisper to him.
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m stealing your cinnamon rolls.”
I blink at my plate, and then at him.
My second cinnamon roll is gone.
He grins.
Full-on grins.
“Pretend, my ass,” Lila murmurs to Tripp loudly enough for me to hear.
“Aaassssssss!” Francie yells.
“Wasn’t me,” Davis says.
“Or me,” Beck says. “Sarah, I didn’t teach her that word.”
“You have the best family,” I whisper to Davis.
“I know.”
“Do they know you know?”
“Yes.”
“Good. This deserves recognition.”
He squeezes my thigh again, and then chaos erupts.
Good chaos.
The kind of chaos that comes in a house full of people who have been friends forever and their mothers and their spouses and their kids.
And for just a little while, I let myself pretend that this is real.
That I belong here for real.
Even when Davis and I go our separate ways after the fake wedding, after we find the treasure, after everything’s back to normal—I still get to see these people sometimes.
And that—on top of having a really good found family of my own with the Rocks—will have to be enough.
31
Davis
There are toomany of us.
Don’t tell me there’s no such thing as too many good guys looking for a treasure either.
It’s not about the help.
Or even about trusting this many people to keep the secret if we find the treasure and someone other than me or Vanessa sees what’s inside of it.
