She’s so thrilled, so appreciative, it’s hard not to feel excited about the idea.
We sit on the park-style bench Roman added to the porch and search through my pottery photos. I am feeling a little big-headed with the multiple oohs and ahhs Rosalie and Fran have given me. Fran has pointed out three of her favorites in my album, and she tells me how her future mother-in-law loves flowers and entertaining, how she’s wise and kind. And truly, it all fuels my creative juices. My head is already imagining a design.
“I’ll sketch something out tonight and send it to you for approval.”
Fran giggles, her grin bright. “I can’t wait!”
Rosalie reaches across Fran on this bench and taps my knee. “You and Roman should go out with us tomorrow night.”
“Um, tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Fran says, “we’re going to this karaoke bar in Reno where Callum and I first met.”
I hiss, air sucking through my teeth as I think those words over. “Ah, karaoke? That’s not really?—”
“We aren’t singing,” Rosalie says. “Just some pool, some time out, and music.”
“Make Roman come,” Fran says. “He never comes.”
I smirk and think about how he just threw me to the wolves not all that long ago—and yes, Rosalie and Fran are some of the nicest wolves I’ve met. But that’s beside the point. “You know, I think we can make tomorrow work,” I say, because if I’m going to bring the real Roman back, why not start at a karaoke bar with his teammates? That, and I’m pretty sure Roman needs a dose of his own medicine.
“Yes!” Rosalie says. “I have school the following day, so it’ll be tame. We won’t be out too late. Nothing too crazy.” She winks at me as if she knows I need a little easing in.
Fran squeaks out a gasp. “And you have to come to the wedding. It’s Christmas Eve at eleven in the morning. Roman was invited, but never RSVPed. I am officially considering this conversation your RSVP, okay? The whole team will be there.”
“You’ll be there too?” I ask Rosalie.
Rosalie scoffs, her arm looping through Fran’s. “Franismy Christmas plan.”
“Rose is my BFF. She is my maid of honor. And the sister I never had but always wanted.” Fran squeezes her arm to Rosalie’s. “She and Zev will be there together.”
Rosalie side-bumps her friend, silently telling her to hush.
“Stop guarding this,” Fran tells her. “I completely understand you have some relationship anxiety after that idiot Robert Pattinson broke your heart.” She pauses, peering over at me. “Rosalie’s ex, not the vampire.” Then she’s back to her friend. “I understand that you feel anxious about sharing how you feel with others, but Rose, Zev isn’t Robert. And he’s crazy about you.”
“Can we please get back to your wedding invitation?” Rosalie says with an eye roll.
“Oh!” Fran snaps her fingers. “Right. Christmas Eve. Eleven o’clock. The Episcopal Church on Fifth Street. Please come. Callum would be so thankful to have all of his teammates there. And I need my friends there, old and new.”
I swallow, warmed with her kind invitation and the way she’s already accepted me as a friend. Then, not thinking about my social awkwardness or Roman’s grumpiness, I hear myself say, “We’ll be there.”
Thirty-Two
“I can’t believeyou did this,” I say, sitting next to Stella in my Bronco. We’re already on the highway, just forty minutes from Reno and the bar where Callum first met Fran.
“What’s Fran and Callum’s story anyway?”
“I don’t know their story, and you’re avoiding accountability.”
Stella scoffs, her bright green eyes, free of glasses, glittering in a feisty way as she gawks at me. “You forced me into socializing. Let’s just say I’m returning the favor.” Then, in a voice that I’m assuming is meant to be mocking of my own, she adds, “This will be good for you, Roman.”
I cough. “I bet.”
“But I actually think it will. The Roman Graves I knew needed his friends.” I can see her peeking at me, waiting for my reaction. “How’s your family, Roman?” She clears her throat. “What’s up with your parents these days?”
I shrug and keep my eyes on the road. “Still divorced. Mom’s living in England with some guy I’ve never met. And Dad and Felicity have a four-year-old to keep them busy.”
Stella coughs. “Whoa,what? Your dad has a four-year-old?”
