Tate grinned. “I love you, you know that?”
She smiled. “I do know. I love you, too. Which is why I’m willin’ to stomp his ass into dust for you.”
She wasn’t kidding. Reilly had thrown more than one punch in his honor over the years. Granted, he hadn’t needed her to since high school, but she always ensured he knew she was still ready to go to bat for him. He loved her for that. She was his sister in all ways that mattered. Well, except he had the hots for her brother, so he didn’t think of her like a sister. It was too creepy to consider.
“You about ready?” she asked, gesturing toward his legs.
Tate glanced down. “You have a problem with what I’m wearin’?”
“I don’t know. You want Donovan to see you in your Snoopy pajamas?”
“That’s fair,” he said, laughing. “I was about to shower when Ben showed up.”
Reilly looked at her watch. “You better hurry.”
“You said two, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got half an hour. And a one-minute commute. I promise I’ll be there on time.”
“You better.” She spun around to leave but detoured to the kitchen island. She snatched one of his chocolate croissants and raised it high as she marched toward the door.
“Hey! Your mom made those for me!”
“It’s payback for makin’ me look at that lyin’, cheatin’ whore on a Saturday.”
“I didn’t invite him!” Tate shouted although she was already outside.
Reilly kept walking and threw up her other hand in a gesture that said,what can you do?
Tate grinned. Yeah. She made his life interesting.
Three
Brady McCord arrived at the Jamesons’ houseexactly at two-thirty, as he was told to do.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out it was a birthday party. They held one every year for him, Donovan, and Tate since their birthdays were all within a few days of each other. Even growing up, Brady had always shared his birthday celebration with Donovan because their mothers had been best friends since they were kids. The fact Brady was born one day after Donovan was merely a coincidence but something that thrilled both of their mothers.
From his first memories, Brady had spent most of his time at the Jamesons’ house. Since his father—nothing more than a sperm donor, really—left before Brady was born, his mom had raised him on her own with help from her friends. And when his mother died last year, just two weeks before Christmas after a long bout with cancer, Brady had leaned on the Jamesons then, too.
The holiday hadn’t been the same without his mother, that was for sure. And he wasn’t the only one impacted by the loss. Deborah Jameson had been brokenhearted, but she’d kept it together for him. And for Reilly. Brady knew Reilly had felt helpless because she’d considered Eve her second mom. Brady hadn’t known how to console her then, so he’d kept his distance, hoping her parents would help her through it.
Needless to say, there hadn’t been much to celebrate last year. The Jamesons had understood when he told them he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday because he’d been making funeral arrangements for his mother. In fact, Deborah had helped him through the entire ordeal, never leaving his side.
While they’d all gone through a long period of mourning during the months that followed, this year, they’d decided to go with tradition because that was what his mother would’ve wanted. Brady wasn’t thrilled with celebrating this year, but he knew the Jamesons needed this as much as he did, so here he was.
As he got out of his SUV, he waited for Donovan to pull up beside him and park. They’d been finishing up some work at the office that morning, working right up until they risked being late for their own party. Although Donovan would’ve gladly been late, Brady didn’t do tardy well.
“You up for gettin’ a beer later?” Donovan asked when he came around the front of his truck.
“I don’t need a babysitter, D.”
“Maybe I do.”
Brady laughed. He appreciated his best friend’s desire to keep him company. For the past year, Donovan had been keeping close tabs on him. Brady had been close to his mother, and yes, he missed her terribly. What most people didn’t understand, though, was that Brady had hated seeing her in so much pain for the last few months of her life. So his reflections were bittersweet. He was moving forward exactly as he’d promised his mother he would do.
“Fair warnin’,” Owen Jameson said when he walked out onto the porch. “Reilly’s been hangin’ mistletoe all mornin’.”
