“Well, what do you want? You want me to go with you? Try to convince your family you’ve fallen for a gay man?”

Abby groaned as she buried her head in her hands. “It shouldn’t be this complicated, should it?”

“No, it shouldn’t. You’re letting Holly—a royal bitch, I might add—get into your head. If you go alone, surely you’re strong enough to tell her to fuck off,” he said dramatically. “But if I were you, I’d take some cute-ass girl along and rub it in her face. Because I hate that woman. She’s caused you nothing but misery. I still don’t know what you saw in her, and I still can’t believe you slept with her again.”

Abby squeezed his arm. “Oh, Marcus, I know. I’m letting it all get to me. I should just go alone—like the grown-ass woman that I am—and deal with it. And tell her to fuck off, like you say.” She leaned her elbows on the table, wondering if she could actually say that to Holly. No, most likely, she’d cave as she’d done last year. “Did I tell you about the maid of honor thing?”

He laughed rather loudly. “No, but Beth did. They can’t be serious.”

“I know, right? It’s like they’re trying to piss me off.”

“I say, take the stranger with you. If she’s as cute as you say, rub it the hell in Holly’s face. Give her a taste of her own medicine.”

She finished off the last of her margarita. “Yeah, Nic’s really cute. She’s got that arrogant bad boy attitude, though. Like the kind of person your parents warned you about but the one you can’t resist.”

“Oh? So are you—”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I can resist her. I’m just saying, she’s kinda—”

“Like a rebel dream? A woman you’d never consider dating but one you wouldn’t mind having a fling with just for sex?”

“Yes. Only, as you know, I don’t have flings.”

“Well, maybe you should start. It could be fun. No strings.” He gave her an exaggerated wink. “You should seriously consider it.”

“Oh, Marcos, you know me better than that.”

“So you’d rather fall into bed again with Holly?”

“Well, at least Holly’s not a stranger,” she reasoned.

“No. She’s your brother’s fiancé. I’d say that’s worse.”

Chapter Eight

Abby headed out to the courtyard where Sharon was sitting at their normal table under the oak tree. She smiled at her friend, then sat down across from her.

“Hey. How was your weekend?”

Sharon shook her head. “Michael’s parents popped over unannounced on Saturday. The house was an absolute wreck and not primed for company.”

“Did they stay the weekend?”