Stone, dressed in a black tuxedo with a pink bowtie, turned to Sophie. “Yes, dear.”
She smiled and patted him on his bald head.
Poppie cleared his throat. “Next question, who made the first move?”
Stone turned to Sophie. “Darling, would you like to field that question?”
She shrugged. “I may or may not have kissed him to make a point.”
“And she made a fine point,” Stone added, eliciting laughter.
“First date?” Poppie asked.
“I took her to a concert in the park. We had a picnic while listening to jazz,” Stone said, looking quite pleased with his answer.
“It was a street fair, and we bought lemonade and hot dogs from a vendor,” Sophie corrected.
“Hotdogs at a street fair? How in the hell did you get her to say yes to a second date let alone marriage?” Montgomery, Stone’s oldest brother, chimed in.
“Asshole,” Stone said, while flipping his brother the bird.
“Who saidI love youfirst?” Poppie asked, looking quite bemused with all the comradery. Next to him sat his date. A woman he’d met at the auction. They’d been seeing quite a lot of each other, but Poppie clammed up anytime Sophie asked him his intentions toward her.
“This one I know,” Stone said. “I said I love you before our first official date. And just so you all know, it took her three months to say it back.”
“That’s true enough.” Sophie laid her hand on his arm, swooning at how his muscles tightened every time she touched him. “I did make him work for it. I mean, after such a dismal firstdate effort on his part, I was bound by sisterhood honor to put him through the wringer for everything he got past that point.”
“Sophie E. Clark, you and I are cut from the same cloth,” Isabella P. Chance said from her seat among the other bridesmaids.”
“In my defense.” Stone placed his hand over Sophie’s. “It wasn’t a planned first date. It was a spur-of-the-moment outing that ended up feeling like a date, so we gave it the official billing.”
“Who is the most generous?” Poppie asked.
“Well, I did pay a million dollars to win him at auction,” Sophie said.
“And I repaid you by telling you a secret that still makes you squeal with happiness over a year later,” Stone replied.
“Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.” The Navy SEALs chanted, pounding their fists on the table as they did, only to abruptly stop when Poppie picked up his slingshot and a rock and aimed it fully loaded in their direction.
“Worst date?” Poppie asked, putting his weapon of choice down unfired.
Stone frowned. “Darling, have we had a bad date?”
“Not unless you count the time you took me to the opera, and you fell asleep,” Sophie replied sweetly.
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Only because you kept me up all night the night before.”
“Worst habit?” Poppie asked.
“Easy. She makes me wear pink T-shirts with crazy ass sayings,” Stone spouted off, winking at Sophie.
“Oh, come on, Stone,” Frankie interjected. She was also part of the wedding party…reluctant, but Sophie had worn her down. “You look fabulous in pink. Almost as good as you did during that phase in your life where you wore a wig to impress your newwife.” She held up her phone. “I have pictures if anyone wants to see them.”
Stone groaned good-naturedly. He and Frankie had come to a shaky truce. He’d confronted her with his doubts about her, and she’d informed him to mind his own damn business. Other things were said, things Sophie had no knowledge of, but they had appeased Stone’s worries.
Sophie patted him on the arm. “You made a wonderful-ish cinnamon roll. And I don’t want to hear any complaints from you about my T-shirts. Not only do they now cost two hundred retail, but it’s pretty much because of them that we met.”
“True,” he said. “Darling, have I mentioned yet today that saying yes to being your bodyguard was the best decision I ever made?”
