Now, those same men served in a different way, using their experience and training to protect the citizens of Seattle who sought them out in their time of need. And as she sat across from her friend and colleague, knowing the woman owed her life to Archer and the others, Ellie knew she, too, would be forever in their debt.
“Speaking of Archer.” She returned her attention to Cassie. “How’s he doing with the whole madness of the wedding planning?”
“He’s been great, believe it or not. Excited even.” Cassie’s blue eyes shimmered beneath the café lights. “Who would have thought that a former special ops badass would enjoy looking at China patterns and throw pillows?”
Ellie released a soft snort. “Your fiancé couldn’t care less about pillows or dishes, Cass. He just does those things because he enjoys spending time withyou.”
“What she said.” Natalie tipped her glass toward Ellie before taking a sip of her iced water.
Cassie became slightly flushed by the honest assessment, her smile becoming almost bashful when she admitted softly, “He does, doesn’t he?”
A rush of familiar envy filled Ellie’s veins. But, like always, she forced herself to pretend the jealousy she felt for the love the happy had found was non-existent.
After all, it wasn’t as if she was in the market for Prince Charming or fairytale endings. Those things were fine for women like Cassie and Nat. Not Ellie, though. And she was perfectly fine with that.
Liar, liar.
“Hey, El.” Cassie caught her attention once more. “I’ve been meaning to ask…how are your catching skills these days?”
Ellie blinked and then frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“You know…yourcatchingskills.” The other woman lifted her hands in the air and pretended to be waiting for something to fall into her hands.
Understanding struck, sending Ellie into an instant and vehement denial. “Oh, no.” She shook her head with vigor. “Nope. There will benocatching of the bouquet.” She raised both palms for effect. “Not for this gal.”
Her friend didn’t appear to be convinced.
“Whatever,” Cassie scoffed. “You know I’m aiming straight for you, right?”
Without missing a beat, Ellie quipped back a pointed, “Thenyoushould know I will let it fall flat at my feet if you do.”
“Why?” The bride-to-be teased. “Do you have a weird phobia of flowers or something?”
“I’m pretty sure theflowersaren’t what she’s afraid of.” Natalie shot Ellie a knowing smirk.
She blinked. “Sheis right here, and we’re supposed to be focused on Cass and Archer’s wedding, not me. And for the record, I’m not afraid of flowers or anything else.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat because that last part was a blatant lie. Therewassomething she was afraid of. Orrather, someone. But friends or not, that wasn’t something Ellie planned to divulge to these two women…or anyone else.
Instead, she brought her glass to her lips. Tiny bubbles exploded as the sweet and tart mixture of orange juice and champagne flowed across her tongue. Drinking in a slow, intentional sip of her Mimosa, she prayed her well-intended friend would change the subject.
She didn’t.
“Deny it all you want.” Cassie dismissed Ellie’s claims. “It won’t change the fact that your time is coming.”
If that doesn’t sound ominous…
“Mytime?”
The cheap crystal rim of the glass hit her lips once more as she took another drink.
At the same time, Natalie leaned in a bit closer, her sweet voice lowering as if she were revealing some massive, life-altering secret as she half-whispered, “I think she’s referring to you meeting Mr. Right.”
The comment—along with another flash of those same gorgeous eyes she’d imagined a moment earlier—was so unexpected, Ellie nearly spit her Mimosa all over the table in front of her. Moving quickly, she used her free hand to reach for her napkin and began dabbing the soft white cloth to the corners of her mouth.
“Uh…I’m good, thanks.” She glanced down to make sure she hadn’t dripped the sweet concoction onto the front of her white blouse.
“Oh, that’s right.” Thick sarcasm laced Cassie’s tone. “I forgot the great Eloise Fisher is immune to all things love and happiness.” Her traitorous friend looked at Natalie. “Our girl, here, is what we like to call a habitual dater.”