I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “Bennett is still trying to convince me to move in with him when he buys a place, so it’s safe to say that marriage is a long way off.”
Clarke paused mid-hair curl. “He wants you to move in?”
I nodded. “He gave me some speech about wanting to brush our teeth side by side like inBring it On.”
Viv whistled. “The ultimate millennial, domestic fantasy.”
“I guess,” I admitted. “But I’m not ready to give up space just yet. I like having my own place.”
Dani nodded. “Just tell him to pick out a house where you can have your own she shed. Or should I say,beeshed?”
“Honey haven?” June offered.
“I’ve got it,” Nessa said excitedly. “Queen’s quarters.”
Before anyone could push the topic further, Dani cleared her throat, bouncing Bailey gently. “Actually, speaking of marriage . . .”
We all turned slowly.
She smiled. “Brooks and I eloped last month.”
Nessa’s jaw dropped. “You what?!”
“After the San Diego series. Just the two of us and the girls on the beach at sunset. Neither of us wanted a big fuss, so yeah . . . we’re married.”
The room exploded.
June shrieked, curling iron forgotten. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.”
Dani laughed, holding up her left hand. A simple gold band with a diamond at the center and two smaller stones on either side circled her finger. “He had it made with Carolina and Bailey’s birthstones.”
June audibly sniffled. “That sneaky, sensitive son of a bitch.”
Nessa launched herself at Dani, hugging her fiercely. “Congratulations.”
“Stop,” Dani protested, shoving out of her arms. “This is Clarke and Soren’s day. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Clarke stared at Dani, then at her own reflection. “Are you kidding me? I’m so excited for y’all. You’re married. And I’m about to be married.” Tears clouded her eyes. “Dang, when did we all grow up?”
The room filled with excited chatter, rapid-fire questions about how Brooks had proposed—late one night in bed, after putting the girls to sleep—and if Dani had any plans to give Carolina and Bailey another sibling anytime soon—not until, and I quote, her “coochie was fully healed” from the last one.
I watched them all, heart full, feeling like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
And just as I finished topping off everyone’s glasses to celebrate, Clarke bolted suddenly from her chair, hand to her mouth as she raced toward the toilet.
We all froze for about point-two seconds.
June was the closest, so she sprung into action first, holding Clarke’s curls back while she heaved. Nessa scrambled to gether a fresh glass of water, while I rifled through our emergency day-of kit for anti-nausea pills and a breath mint. We had come prepared for this very occasion.
When Clarke finally sat back, paler and shakier than before, she looked up at us with wide eyes.
“I’m so sorry, y’all. I’m fine,” she said quickly. “It’s just . . . nerves, I guess. That’s normal, right?”
Dani tilted her head, studying her. “Or . . .”
Clarke’s eyes widened. “No. There’s no way I’m—”
“You’ve been pretty exhausted lately,” she pointed out. “You fell asleep at your desk the other day.”
