Chapter 17 Weston #2
Zander is one of Everett and Dahlia’s twins, and while his hair is a muted dishwater blond, and his eyes are a light shade of brown, the rest of his features match his dad’s with striking resemblance.
“Oh, no,” Liv drawls, emerging from the sea of people, her wife at her side. “Not the pornstache.”
“I eat pussy better with a mustache.” He waggles his eyebrows, smoothing two fingers over the hair on his upper lip, the rest of his face clean shaven.
“No.” Lou, Zander’s older sister, smacks his arm. “I told you to knock that shit off when I’m in earshot.”
“If you actually think that, you’re more hopeless than I thought,” Liv snipes back nonchalantly.
“Facial hair does not make you better at cunnilingus. See my smooth, pretty face?” she asks, rubbing her cheek before she nods toward her wife.
“How many times did you come this morning, baby? Three? Or more?”
Zander gapes, horrified. “You are crossing a line, Livia.”
“Stop provoking each other,” Lou growls, running a hand through her shoulder-length blond hair before turning to me. “I’m sorry, Weston. We’re not normally like this.”
“She’s lying. We’re always like this.” Liv grins.
I smile awkwardly. I have no idea how to react to this conversation, and now I’m terrified my utter lack of experience is apparent.
“I’m terribly embarrassed.” Willow sighs, pulling my gaze to her. Bright blue eyes shine up at me. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m not of relation to any of them?”
“No.” I smirk.
“Weston’s gonna have to learn to be real chill if he’s hanging around this family,” Zander says, popping a brow as his eyes flick to our joined hands.
My stomach flips, and I quickly glance around the party for any sign her dad might be watching us. I’ve been somewhat aware of the risk holding her hand in public provides, but I honestly hoped we were being discreet about it, and nobody would notice.
I don’t pull my hand away from hers, though. Neither does she.
“We’re friends, Z.”
Friends. We’re friends. Friends can hold hands. Leo even approved a friendship between us. He only told me I couldn’t be alone with her, and technically I’ve broken that rule twice already, but I’m not breaking it right now, so I have nothing to worry about, right?
“Right . . . anyway, I came to see if you know where Allie is?” Zander asks, changing the subject. “Her . . . surprise is waiting in the garage and becoming impatient with me.”
“She should be out here,” Willow says, dipping her free hand into the back pocket of her shorts and pulling out her phone. “Let me call her.”
Based on Willow’s end of the conversation, Allie was inside the house putting together a dessert she made for the party before Willow asked her to meet us outside. A few minutes later, Allie comes skipping down the porch steps, tugging on the arm of a man who trails behind her.
Allie’s wearing almost the exact same outfit Willow is—same shirt and cutoff shorts, though she’s donning a pair of sandals and brightly colored toes.
Her curly hair is thrown into a bun on her head, face framed by dark ringlets.
The man beside her looks more dressed for a golf outing than a backyard barbeque, and I’d guess his gold watch costs more than I’ll make in a year working at the surf shop.
“What’s up?” Allie asks, joining us. “Oh, and Weston, this is Declan. My boyfriend.”
I shake his hand, and he tosses me a judgmental once-over before taking a step back from the rest of the group. Lou smiles at him, but it’s unconvincing. Livia and Zander openly scowl in his direction.
Willow shoots me a glance that says we don’t like Declan before her gaze finds Allie again. “We have a surprise birthday gift for you.”
“I thought your birthday was on Monday?” Declan asks, frowning.
“Well, we love Allie a whole lot, so we don’t confine celebrating to one day,” Zander sneers.
“I wasn’t suggesting—” Declan begins, but Willow cuts him off.
“I’m going to blindfold you, okay? Then Lou is going to get your gift.”
She lets go of my hand, pulling a silk scarf from her back pocket before gently grasping Allie’s shoulder and spinning her around, forcing her to unlock hands with Declan. He appears uncomfortable, creating more space as he watches the scene unfold.
Lou begins walking toward the garage, and Liv heads toward the porch, lowering the music on the speakers set up in front of it. The rest of the party gets quieter, most guests turning their attention in our direction.
“I am like . . . not really into a blindfold kink so this better be good,” Allie says. Declan scoffs as if offended.
Willow laughs. “It’s worth it, I promise.”
Lou exits the garage, a beaming man beside her who closely resembles Zander. They have the same build and similar features, though his eyes are lighter and his hair darker than his twin’s.
Willow’s standing beside me, holding both of Allie’s hands as Allie faces us. Archer sneaks up behind her, and as Willow whips the blindfold off her eyes, he places his hands over them, leaning into her. “Happy Birthday, Allie Cat.”
Allie gasps as a visible tremble shakes through her body at the sound of his voice. She steps forward, and Archer’s hands fall off her face as she spins around, freezing when she takes him in. She’s damn near trembling, like she can’t believe he’s standing in front of her.
When the realization sets in, Allie squeals.
Literally squeals. Launching herself into his arms, Archer grabs her effortlessly, holding her legs at his waist and twirling her around as she sobs into his neck.
It’s difficult to make out the words, but I’m pretty sure she’s crying something like, “You’re here. You’re home,” against his skin.
I can’t help but glance at Declan, who stares after them with a clenched jaw and flared nostrils, mouth flattened in an expression that’s more disgusted than a simple frown.
“So . . . Archer isn’t Allie’s boyfriend?”
“Nope.” Willow snorts. “They’re best friends.” She holds up her fingers, making air quotes. “Except, they were each other’s first kiss, first time, first love, and they still have an active marriage pact.”
“Oh.” I nod, attempting to sound nonchalant, but . . . what the fuck. “That’s . . . interesting.”
“It’s messy as hell, but I don’t know . .
. Archer plays football in Texas and has a great chance of going pro, and Allie wants to be a world-renowned pastry chef and eventually own my aunt’s bakery.
She didn’t want to follow him to Texas when her life was here in California.
” Willow shrugs. “So, they went their separate ways.”
“How long is Archer home for?” I ask.
“About a month. I’d place a bet that Allie’s relationship with Declan doesn’t make it that long, though. Archer eclipses Allie’s life when he’s in it, and she eclipses his even when she’s not.”
“Yep,” I say, popping the p. “That’s definitely messy.”
Willow hums in agreement, but when my gaze darts to her, she’s smiling misty-eyed as she watches them hold each other.