26 #4
Easton immediately bent at the waist, laughing silently into his hand.
Cade was quiet for half a second. “Aura, I can see your name on the screen.”
I covered the phone and glared at Easton. “He’s annoyingly observant.”
Easton took the phone and, for reasons known only to his concussion-adjacent masculinity, used an accent that sounded like a mobster raised by a lacrosse coach. “We require transportation. No police involvement.”
Cade sighed. “Easton, if this is your attempt at a disguise, your education is failing you.”
In the background, Bliss yelled, “Is that them? Are they drunk? Put them on speaker.”
I leaned toward the phone. “We won trivia morally.”
Easton nodded solemnly. “We were robbed.”
Cade’s voice flattened. “Where are you?”
I glanced at the sign above us. “A secondary location.”
Bliss came on the line, delighted. “Oh my gosh, they’re so drunk.”
“I had two drinks,” I said.
“I had two beers,” Easton added, offended.
Cade paused. “You sound proud of that.”
“He was extremely responsible,” I said. “It was unsettling.”
Bliss laughed so hard the phone crackled.
Easton took the phone back. “My truck died, the Uber driver abandoned us for her emotional support ferret, and Aura is wearing a tiara. We need extraction.”
Cade was quiet for another beat. “I’m sorry. Did you say ferret?”
“Pickle,” I added.
Bliss shrieked again.
Cade sighed like a man who had accepted that love meant driving into nonsense. “Send location.”
“Already did,” Easton said.
“Stay where you are.”
I leaned in. “Bring snacks.”
“No,” Cade said.
Bliss yelled, “I’ll bring snacks.”
Cade muttered something away from the phone.
Bliss yelled louder, “And a blanket, because Aura gets cold.”
My eyes burned unexpectedly.
Easton’s hand found mine in the dark.
Cade came back on. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, Dad,” I said.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Thank you, wealthy team guardian.”
“I liked Dad better,” Bliss said.
Cade hung up.
Easton and I looked at each other.
Then I laughed, and he pulled me against him, one arm around my shoulders, his mouth pressing to the top of my head beside the crooked tiara.
“You okay, second-place royalty?”
“I’m excellent.”
“You sure?”
“My boyfriend’s truck is dead, his legal situation is questionable, his trivia ethics are intense, and he watched a wine-key video before taking me on the worst fancy date ever.” I looked up at him. “I’m alarmingly happy.”
His smile faded into something quieter. “Boyfriend?”
I stilled.
“You said boyfriend,” he said.
I lifted my chin. “Do you object?”
“No.”
“You look like you’re objecting.”
“I’m processing.”
“With that face?”
“This face is emotionally advanced.”
“This face looks like it just got hit with a waffle iron.”
He laughed and cupped the side of my face. “Say it again.”
“You got hit with a waffle iron?”
“Aura.”
I smiled.
The neon halo flickered above us, gold light cutting across his cheekbones, making him look softer than he probably wanted and more mine than I knew how to handle.
“My boyfriend,” I said.
His thumb brushed my cheek. “Yeah.”
“Too much?”
“No.” His voice dropped. “Never that.”
When Cade’s SUV pulled up fifteen minutes later, Bliss was pressed against the passenger window in pajamas, her hair piled on top of her head, her face alight with nosy joy.
Cade parked at the curb and rolled the window down with the expression of a man who had been briefed on ferrets against his will.
Bliss took one look at me under the awning, tiara crooked, basket on my arm, Easton’s jacket around my shoulders, and burst into tears.
I pointed at her. “No.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re crying at a bar curb.”
“You look happy.”
“I look sticky.”
“You look in love and sticky.”
Easton opened the back door for me. “Both can be true.”
Cade looked at him over the roof of the SUV. “Truck?”
“Dead.”
“Date?”
Easton glanced at me.
I smiled.
He smiled back.
“Perfect disaster,” he said.
Cade’s face softened before he hid it by looking toward the street. “Get in.”
Bliss twisted in her seat as we climbed into the back. “Tell me everything.”
“No,” Easton and I said together.
Her mouth fell open. “You can’t no me in stereo.”
“We can,” I said, settling beside him.
“We did,” Easton added.
Cade pulled away from the curb.
Bliss stared between us, then pointed at the tiara. “At least explain that.”
I adjusted it with dignity. “I am second-place royalty.”
Easton leaned back, his hand finding mine between us. “She was robbed.”
I looked at him. “You were robbed. I was crowned.”
“You are enjoying this.”
“I’m dating a man who argued for Macedonian nuance at bar trivia. I have to find joy somewhere.”
Cade’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “You argued with a trivia host?”
“Historical integrity matters,” Easton said.
Bliss wiped beneath her eyes, smiling so hard it made my chest ache. “Oh, I love this.”
I looked at Easton.
He was already looking at me, rain-damp hair messy, shirt sleeves rolled, eyes soft in the passing streetlights, his hand warm around mine.
For once, the night had gone wrong in every possible direction, and none of it felt like ruin.
It felt like a story I would keep.