Carter gave her a Cheshire cat grin. “We have designers knocking down our doors offering their services.” “What’s this year’s theme?” she asked. “Pink,” Carter grinned gleefully. “The money is going to the McGrath Foundation, specifically to their McGrath Breast Care nurses.” Mia’s mind was already running through options for Darius. The pink was only to be an accent color, so he would need to wear a white suit, but there were so many ways to introduce pink into his wardrobe. “The Playbook has an entire table,” Carter went on to say. “So that means all of you, plus the rest of the guys.” “What about dates?” Darius asked. “I can’t turn up stag.” “Well, Mia will obviously be your date,” Carter said. “Frankie, you can bring a date too, and with Peyton as Flynn’s date, that fills the table.” “Are we done here?” Liam said, standing to his feet. “Sure,” Carter said. “I’ll email you the list of designers and you can make appointments to see them this week.” Liam walked out

“Another one please,” Mia called to a passing waitress, holding up the empty margarita jug. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Peyton asked, eyeing her friend with pity. “Nope,” she replied. “I can still remember my name…and his.” “Is this about Darius?” Peyton asked. Mia snorted. “Darius. Fucking Darius fucking Carathurs. Fuck him. This is all his fucking fault.” “That’s a lot of fucks you’re giving away there,” Peyton said, crossing her arms on the table. “Wanna talk about it?” A jug of margarita was plonked down in front of them and Mia whooped. She sloshed some into her glass and lifted it to her mouth, gulping greedily, hoping the brain froze and the alcohol would numb the pain in her heart. “Talk to me, Mia. If anyone can understand what you’re going through, it’s me.” Mia snorted into her glass causing the frozen drink to splash up on her nose. She laughed, but it wasn’t joyful. While Peyton had gone through a media storm when she start

Liam looked back at the photo. “I don’t know either,” he said. “I do understand,” he finally said. “Sort of, anyway. I’m trying to at least. I know you were in an untenable situation, but I still need time, you know? I need time to come to terms with it all. To grieve.” She nodded. “I understand,” she replied, pulling away from him. He caught her hand before she could leave, turning toward her and waiting for her to meet his eyes. “I need time, but that doesn’t mean I need time away from you,” he said, his voice rough. “I’m sorry about lunch yesterday. I’m sorry for saying the things I said. I was hurt—I am hurt—but that was no excuse to lash out at you. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t going to resolve itself overnight, but I want to try to get through it together. All of us.” Loretta smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I’d like that too and thank you for your apology. I owe you one too. I’ve been a little obsessed with getting to know Jonathon and I d