“It’s like a soul mate, except your best friend, who feels like your sister, you know? Ivy loves your jewelry, too. Look at this bracelet.” She lifts her arm, showing off double strings of platinum charms and diamonds. “We wear them all the time.”
“That’s pretty.” I smile with pride. I reach into my purse, take out my card and hand it to her. “If you need anything, just give me a call.”
“Thank you so much. You’re the best. Also, here’s my card.”
One of the Asian ladies instantly produces a card and hands it to me.
Yuna continues, “Call me if the stain doesn’t come out. I’ll figure something out and make it right for you. I haven’t seen Avery in a while anyway.” She grins.
“Thanks for the offer,” I say, although I have no intention of reaching out to her about the dress. It’s really not that big of a deal. I run my hand along the back of Liam’s head, feel the smooth silk of his hair. He looks at me worriedly. He knows he made a mess. I smile. “Don’t worry, Liam. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I’m not in trouble?” he asks in a small voice.
“Nope.”
“I’m sorry,” he says gravely, while Yuna and I press our lips to not laugh at his heavy sigh, as though the weight of the world rests on his little shoulders.
“Apology accepted.”
He looks at the empty milkshake cup, the corners of his soft mouth turning more downward.
“Do you like ice cream? We have some if you’d like thatandif your mother’s okay with it,” I add. The flagship store serves refreshments, and ice cream’s something we keep in stock.
He lifts his head, his eyes shining with instant happiness. “Ice cream?”
“Yes.”
He turns to his mother. “Is it okay?”
Yuna laughs. “Uh-huh.” She kisses his forehead and turns to me. “Thank you so much. You’re so kind.”
“My pleasure.”
Chapter 15
Sebastian
Instead of the steakhouse where my brothers and I normally have our dinners, I head to Noah’s place. Grant is still pissed about the way they treated Aspen, so we aren’t going there anymore, even though they have great steak and the best bread in the city. If Noah’s sad about that—he’s the carb addict of the family—he doesn’t show it.
We always watch each other’s backs. Screw with one of us, and you just screwed with all of us.
Noah said he hired Jane Pryce, a popular private chef, for our dinner, so it should be good. He asked for something homey and filling, with lots of beef.
It’s just the seven of us at dinner, even though three—actually,four—of us are married now. Emmett, Griffin and Grant’s wives get along well. So when we have our brother-only brunches or dinners, they hang out together, doing facials or whatever women like to do when they’re left to their own devices with their husbands’ black AmEx cards. Last time, they ordered over a hundred romance novels from Amazon. Although Amy doesn’t read much, Sierra and Aspen do, and they read the “good parts” out loud and analyzed the anatomical possibilities of each over chocolate fondue and sparkling white pear cider.
Should I introduce Luce to the trio? Even if she’s not somebody I wanted to marry, she is my wife. But will she fit in? Amy, Sierra and Aspen are normal. They don’t have dozens of scandalous headlines published about them each year, and they don’t do orgies or drugs. Although…Luce might not do orgies or drugs, either—at least, I haven’t seen any signs. But she still isn’t like them.
Maybe they can be introduced at the wedding reception next Saturday. That way, if they don’t like Luce, they won’t feel pressured to spend time with her.
Noah’s home sits on a beachfront lot in Malibu. All chrome, stone and glass, the place looks out onto the ocean. It’s gorgeous when the day changes to evening, the sky turning bronze and purple. The property is fenced with wrought iron that’s surprisingly sturdy. Noah reinforced it with an electric fence after Dad’s hooker jumped over the wrought-iron barrier to reach him. He says he needs privacy and the beach. I think he just likes to gaze at bikini-clad girls frolicking out on the sand, which you can see from the living room and any of the bedrooms on the upper level.
Nicholas and I arrive at the same time. We park our cars. The other brothers are already here.
Nicholas waves as he climbs out of his Bentley Flying Spur. Although we have different moms, most people can tell we’re related. Actually, they can tell all seven of us are related because we all have Dad’s coloring and jaw. Joey also says we have Dad’s “Promethean” brow, but I prefer not to put much stock into his observations because everything coming out of his mouth is designed to flatter Dad.
There’s no nickname for Nicholas because his mom goes by Nikki or Nic, depending on her mood. She’s an extremely capricious woman, and I’ll never understand how she ended up with a son as steady and stable as Nicholas. He’s as sturdy and reliable as a thousand-year-old oak.
Sierra observed that Nicholas would make a great boyfriend. “Just the kind of guy you can depend on. It’s so weird he’s still single. The women in this city must be blind.”
