“Surprise,” Jess says when they reach us. She’s grinning and slightly rumpled from the flight, like she threw herself on a plane without thinking twice.
I’m out of my chair before I can think, pulling her into a hug so tight she laughs.
“You’re here. You’re actually here.”
“Of course I’m here.” She pulls back, hands on my shoulders. “You think I’d let you face down small-town judgment without best friend backup?”
“But I told you not to worry about it.”
“I love you, and normally I’d listen to your every request, but someone else was a little more convincing.” She glances at Mateo. “He’s very persuasive, and when he called me yesterdayand said I needed to get on a plane immediately at his expense, I couldn’t say no.”
I look at Mateo. He’s standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching me with that steady gaze.
“You flew her here?”
“I picked her up from the airport.” He shrugs. “The plane flew her here.”
“After he bought my ticket,” Jess adds. “And wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
My whole body feels light and tingly. “And that’s why you were running late.”
“Yeah.” His mouth quirks. “That’s why I was running late,tesoro.”
Macy’s already pulling out a chair for Jess. “Sit! You must be exhausted.”
“I’m getting there.” Jess settles into the seat, and Isabel immediately slides a wine glass toward her.
“Red or white? We have both.”
“Actually, just water for me.” Jess smiles. “I had wine on the plane. Trying to pace myself.”
I narrow my eyes at her. Jess doesn’t pace herself. Ever. She’s the one who convinced me to try tequila shots at a Tuesday happy hour.
“Smart.” Isabel pours her a glass of sparkling water from the carafe on the table.
Dean appears then, carrying two wine bottles and wearing his usual quiet smirk. He sets them on the table and nods at everyone.
“Sadie. Good to see you out.” His eyes flick to Jess. “And you must be the famous best friend.”
“Jess.” She extends her hand. “And you are?”
“Dean. Mateo’s friend.”
“Like a brother,” Mateo adds, settling into the chair beside me. His arm wraps around the back of my seat. The heat from the other night sparks between us again.
I take another sip of wine.
Dean glances at Isabel. “No Ryan tonight?”
“He had plans with his friends.”
“His loss,” Dean says, settling into a chair across from her. “Tell me about your mural.”
Isabel relaxes, her shoulders dropping as she talks about the mural. Jess mentions something about a guy she met on Halloween. Macy launches into a story about a customer who tried to return a book because “the hero was too attractive and it made her husband jealous.”
Everyone laughs at that one.
Mateo’s arm stays draped across the back of my chair. Every few minutes, his fingers brush my shoulder—casual, barely there, but I’m hyperaware of every touch.
