“Just a prank,” James said. “Something epic.”
Something epic. Hmm. “You know what would make it more epic? Getting the whole gang back together,” I said. “The Untouchables back at it again.”
James shook his head. “The Untouchables? I always hated that nickname.” He doodled something in his notebook. “Who came up with that? Clearly whoever first said it was dead wrong.”
Oh, James. He was trying to hide his broken heart. But random proposals weren’t going to fix things with Rachel or bring the Untouchables back together.
“Well, revenge is a dish best served cold,” Rob said, ignoring James’ comment. “Isn’t that a saying? Maybe we could do something with pudding.”
I laughed. “And she couldn’t kill any frogs that way.”
James jotted down the idea.
“You know who probably makes a good pudding?” I asked. “Mrs. Caldwell. I bet if we looped Matt and Mason in on this…”
“Sanders,” Rob groaned. “We said we wouldn’t talk about your engagement to the enemy. So stop mentioning the enemy’s name in our treehouse. This is a sacred place.”
“But…”
“No buts. When you hang out with us, you’re one of us. When you hang out with them, you’re one of them.” He made a gagging noise. “No in the middle. Right now you’re a Hunter. Be a gross Caldwell later. Unless you want to sleep in my bed tonight instead.” He winked at me. “I’ll buy you a nicer ring.”
James cleared his throat. “I kind of like the pudding idea. Could you imagine how much Isabella would freak if she got that in her hair?”
I tried to focus on James instead of Rob. I couldn’t handle any more teasing today. And seeing James smile again made being here feel like less of a mistake. He needed this.
“Or we could shave her head,” Rob suggested.
I laughed.
They went back and forth, making me laugh, harder and harder as I looked around the small treehouse. There were toys and comic books on the floor. It looked so much more lived in than James’ room had. Pictures lined the wall. Photos of James as a happy little boy. He had the same facial features, in an adorable little boy kind of way. "You used to be so cute,” I said and leaned over to look at one.
“Used to be?” James asked. “You’re just not looking hard enough now.”
I laughed at him and then looked back at the pictures. “Is this all four of the Untouchables as kids?”
“Again with that terrible nickname,” James said with a laugh. He leaned over and unpinned the picture from the wall. "But yeah. That was taken one summer when we were little."
“We look ridiculous,” Rob said.
I smiled down at the picture. James and Mason both had braces and looked so scrawny, sitting on the edge of a pool. It looked like the pool in Matt’s backyard. Rob and Matt looked even scrawnier. Rob was pushing Matt into the pool in the picture and the expression on Matt’s face was priceless. The four of them were having so much fun. How could they just let this friendship fade away?
“You can keep it, if you want,” James said. “I don’t really want it anymore.”
I pressed my lips together. Maybe he didn’t want it right now. But he would again one day. I’d make sure of it. “Thanks.”
“No problem. And I’m still cute.”
I laughed. “Sure.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “You’ll see, Brooklyn. One day you’ll look back at all of this and wish you would have said yes to me.”
I smiled. “You never know.” But I did. I looked down at the picture. I wanted Matt. And I wanted what was in this picture too. Yes, their friendship had fallen apart. But that just meant it could be put together. I knew that. My heart was being put back together too.
And as I looked down at the picture, it made me want something else too. I could so easily picture Matt and my kids hanging out by the pool. With smiles that big. I’d never thought about kids before. Hell, I was still a kid. But it was so easy to picture it with Matt. Maybe because he seemed to have pushed down the gas pedal on our relationship. And one day, I wanted our kids to be friends with James’ kids. And Rob’s.
I looked up at James. “I just think that maybe you’re all sorry. And that there’s no reason to throw away a lifetime of friendship over a misunderstanding.”
“Well…if you accept my proposal, I guess I could forgive him.”