“Are they ever going to get it together?” I ask. Reid follows my line of sight and the lift of my chin. I’m all too aware of Lexi and Ben’s drama, having firsthand witnessed Lexi’s state in the aftermath of her and Ben’s initial breakup, along with following the headlines they’ve made over the years.
“Ben has had a diamond in his pocket since the day after we played at the Super Bowl,” Reid chuckles. “I have no doubt it will be on her finger one day soon. And she’ll marry him and throw it back at him a hundred times before we finally toss them in the grave together. To be honest, right now, they’re the least of my worries. I’m seeing a lot more drama unfolding than those two can toss at us tonight.”
“Do tell,” I say, circling the whiskey in my glass before taking a sip.
“Benji,” he prompts, and I follow his line of sight to see Ben and Lexi’s tuxedo-clad son standing on the side of the dance floor, his posture relaxed, his expression livid.
“Oh, I see him, and he’s foaming at the mouth at—”
“Easton’s bodyguard.”
“Joel,” I toss in. “Yeah, I’ve met him. Good man, oh shit, I see,” I reiterate, spotting Joel on the dance floor with Rye’s daughter, Rian, their body language making it clear they’re sharing more than a friendly dance.
Reid exhales harshly, “We should fucking pop some popcorn and wait this out because we’ve got the best seats in the house.”
“It’s never easy, is it?” I shake my head as our eyes focus on Easton and Natalie, who are in the middle of the dance floor nose to nose, swaying to the guitar-fueled melody of “Sleep Walk,” completely oblivious of the world around them.
“They have no idea what they’re in for,” Reid says, a father’s concern in his voice.
“They have some idea,” I remind him.
“Yeah, that’s true.” He glances over at me. “We did a good thing, man.”
“More than one,” I say as Easton dips and whispers to Natalie, and she beams up at him in response before her smile grows impossibly brighter. “I’m pretty sure we can thank Stella’s cosmic influence on both of them. Otherwise, we couldn’t have pulled it off.”
“Still,” he says, “it was a stroke of genius to throw them in the blender in Mexico.”
“Yes, it was,” I say with a chuckle. “Stella can replace the F in fate with an N,” I muse, tossing back more whiskey.
“Still no way to make sense of how they ended up together in the first place,” Reid states with a bewildered tone.
“I can’t deny that—At. Fucking. All. Can’t say it didn’t play a part, either.”
Reid glances over at me. “What if it hadn’t worked out?”
“We can only do so much, right? God knows we made our own mistakes.”
“Truth,” he says, slowly lifting his chin to Stella to ease her worry just before I catch Addie’s eye and give her a slow wink.
“Nate.” Reid’s change of tone has me glancing over at him. “Can we keep this to—”
I nod, sharply cutting him off. “It stays solely between us. It’s the secret we can take to our separate graves.”
He nods, seeming satisfied as I retire my rocks glass and exchange it before lifting the flute in my hand. “I’m going to bring my wife her champagne.”
“See you around, Butler.”
“Yeah, you will,” I circle my face with my free hand while sporting a shit-eating grin. “So, you might want to get used to this pretty face.”
“Careful, Butler. You almost dodged pretentious prick.” Reid full-on smiles at me before sipping his whiskey.
“Touché, Crowne.”
THE END