“Thank you,” I say as I take the plate from her and then look over the buffet.
What looks to be fresh tortillas are stacked under a warmer. There are scrambled eggs, a variety of cheeses, salsas, refried beans, bacon, sausage, avocado, and cilantro. Breaker was right. This looks amazing. To the right is a colossal bowl of fruit salad made up of strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, and cherries. And to the right of that . . . the croissants with a bowl of jelly.
“This looks amazing,” I say.
“Take your time,” Kelsey says. “We’ll be here for the next few hours, slowly picking away at the buffet. It’s an event. I would start with two tacos and a drink.”
Lottie slides in next to me and says, “Then go for the bowl of fruit as a palate cleanser.”
“Then a croissant, only one to start,” Kelsey adds.
“Then some water,” Lottie says. “Then another taco, then croissant, then fruit . . . then croissant.”
“Keep it slow and steady on the booze drinks.” Kelsey hands me a mimosa.
“I’m not going to remember that, so I might need you two to guide me.”
“We got you,” Lottie says and then points at a table on the other side of the pool. “Meet us over there unless you want to listen to JP drone on for half an hour about how he makes the best Bloody Marys.”
“He better get it all out now,” Kelsey says. “I don’t want to hear about it when we get home.”
Chuckling, I fill my plate with two tacos made up of scrambled eggs, refried beans, cheese, bacon, and avocado and then head over to the other side of the pool, in the shade with the girls. Just what I wanted.
“I’m so glad Breaker brought you,” Kelsey says. “We’re always telling him to bring you, but he says you spend a lot of weekends with your fiancé.”
I nod. “Yeah, he’s out of town this weekend, so I was free.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” Lottie says. “By the way, the knitted potholders you gave us are my favorite thing ever.”
“Mine too,” Kelsey says. “I need to know how you made them. I’ve wanted to pick up a hobby for a while, but I don’t know where to start.”
Lottie grips the table and says, “Oh my God, we should start a knitting club.”
“Don’t tease me. I’ve always wanted to be part of a knitting club.”
“Oh, we’re not teasing.” Lottie looks over her shoulder and calls, “Myla, over here.”
I glance over my shoulder and spot Ryot Bisley—former third baseman for the Chicago Bobbies—I know this because Breaker told me—and his wife, Myla. They recently joined forces with the Cane brothers, so seeing them here is no surprise.
Ryot tugs on Myla’s hand, whispers something in her ear. I watch as their eyes connect. An unspoken affection for each other passes by right before he pinches her chin and kisses her lips gently.
The sight of them makes my stomach hollow out as the thought, “I want that,” passes through my mind.
But don’t I have that?
Don’t I have that with Brian?
I want to believe that I do. I want to be able to sit here and think, if I brought Brian to this brunch, that he wouldn’t send me on my way and focus on the powerful man who he has at his fingertips but rather speak quietly in my ear, hold my hand, want to let everyone know that I’m his.
Myla makes her way over here, her curvy body something to behold. No wonder Ryot is watching her walk away. Hell, I can’t take my eyes off her either.
“Hey, girls.” When she spots me, she says, “We haven’t met. I’m Myla.” She holds her hand out, and I take it.
“I’m Lia, Breaker’s best friend.”
“Oh, I’ve heard so much about you. Congrats on your engagement.”
“Thank you,” I say, even though it’s starting to feel like congrats aren’t in order.
“Are you not eating?” Lottie asks right before she takes a large bite of her taco.
“Please.” Myla takes a seat. “As if I would skip out on taco bar. Ryot said he’ll get me a plate and bring it over.”
“That’s so sweet,” I say.
Myla smiles while her eyes find Ryot. “That’s Ryot, always thinking of me first before himself.” Myla waggles her brows. “Even in bed.” She then leans forward and says, “Girls, last night, I’m not kidding, I’m pretty sure I had an out-of-body experience.”