Page 69 of Happily Ever After

She took another bite of pancake. It was warm, sweet, and a little too indulgent, but so good.

“After this,” Brick said. “I’ll take you straight home. I’m sure you want to get back to things.”

Blaise nodded. “And I have to tell the Queen Bees everything. They’ll want details.”

“I’m sure they will,” Brick said, amused. “And you’ll give them.”

“Of course I will,” Blaise said. “They’re my people.”

Brick’s gaze held hers for a beat. “I know.”

Blaise looked down at her plate again, suddenly grateful in a way that made her chest ache.

Miami had been exciting, it had been validating, and it had been profitable. And it had also made her appreciate the life she’d built here. The one that didn’t require her to perform, the one where she could just be herself.

She finished her breakfast slowly, letting herself enjoy every bite. When she finally set her fork down, Brick was already reaching for his wallet.

Blaise lifted an eyebrow. “I can pay⁠—”

“No,” Brick said. “I invited you. I’ve got it.”

Blaise didn’t argue. She just smiled. “Fine. But I’m buying the next time we go out.”

Brick dropped some bills on the table and stood. “We’ll see.”

They walked back to the car together, the morning sun brighter now, the air already warming. Beau trotted along happily, tail swinging, as if his world was right again.

Blaise slid into the passenger seat and looked over at Brick as he started the engine.

“I’m home,” she said, mostly to herself.

Brick glanced at her, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he said. “You are.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Cece had changed her blouse twice by the time Joe texted that he was five minutes away.

Not because anything was wrong with the first two, exactly—just that neither of them felt quite right. One was too cheerful for how she felt inside, the other looked…funereal. She stood in front of her bedroom mirror, tugged at the hem of the third option, and decided it would have to do.

Getting bloodwork done wasn’t going to be any more or less irritating just because of what she wore.

She slipped her phone into her bag, double-checked that she had her insurance card, and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. Coffee would have been better, but she couldn’t have that until after the bloodwork.

Sunlight spilled across the countertop, catching on a faint smear she’d missed earlier. She wiped it away absently. Her mind kept returning to the only other thing she could think about: Darcy’s efforts to eliminate the book club.

Cece didn’t like uncertainty. She could live with bad news. She could manage hard truths. There had been a lot of those in her life. But this sense of waiting for something to shift one way or another? She didn’t like that at all.

A knock sounded at the door, solid and unhurried.

Joe.

Cece grabbed her purse and went to open the door. He stood on the porch with his keys in hand, wearing sunglasses and that familiar expression of calm readiness, like whatever the day brought was no match for him.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” she replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek, already comforted by his presence.

“You ready?”