“It’s not what you think,” I mumble, but my protest is pointless, because Dex’s grin is already lopsided.
With glee.
For more than a year, he’s accused me of crushing on Loren. For all I know, he’s said something to Sayla. I can only hopeshehasn’t told Loren.
Yet.
“Well, well, well.” Dex chuckles. “Thisis new.”
“They aren’t making out, dummy,” Sayla blurts. She rushes over to our little pile of humanity and falls to her knees in front of us. “What happened?”
I look down at Loren. I think I’ll let her take this one.
Her gaze bounces between Sayla and me, then she pastes a sheepish smile on her face. “I … I just … I missed the fainting couch. Like a heroine in some Victorian novel.”
“And Bridger caught you?”
“Apparently.”
“Quite the hero,” Sayla says, examining Loren’s face. “Have you eaten today?”
“Like … food?”
“That is what people generally eat, yes.”
“Then, yes,” Loren answers. There’s a pause, then she furrows her brow. “Wait. I mean, no. Well, there was a donut …”
“Yeah, I figured as much.” Sayla frowns. “Your recent self-care has been, how should I put this delicately? Garbage.”
Loren wrinkles her nose. “Sorry?”
“Oh, stop,” Sayla tells her, before barking out orders. “Dex, get Loren some water. Bridger, let’s help her up.”
Sayla’s taking control, and for this, I’m grateful. Not that I mind caring for Loren. The exact opposite is true. Holding her like this was starting to feel a little too good.
Formyown good.
We maneuver Loren onto her feet and help her hobble to the couch, where she collapses in a heap. “You can stop fussing over me now,” she says. “Both of you. Really. Nothing to see here, folks.”
Her eyes wander up to mine, and my chest cinches tight. Maybe her little blackout erased what I just told her aboutbeing the anonymous donor. Or she might be covering for me. Or she could be about to out me right now.
“Awwww, you guys,” Sayla squeals. Her gaze sweeps the room, pausing at the candles and the roses. “Did Dex and I just catch you two setting up some kind of romantic surprise for us?”
Saved by the bride.
I throw my hands up. “All Loren’s idea.”
“But I couldn’t have done it without help,” she says. “And we just finished moving all my stuff into Dex’s apartment.”
“Already?” Dex returns with a glass of water. He hands it to Loren. “You could’ve stayed here as long as you?—”
“I know,” she interrupts. “You told me a million times. Which was so generous and very on brand. For both of you. But you should start your new life as husband and wife without a third wheel cramping your style.”
He smirks. “I rarely cramp.”
“And you’re not a wheel,” Sayla says. “Wheels don’t faint.”
“Eh. I’m all good now.” Loren hitches her shoulders. “And anyway, Bridger and I were just about to leave. The newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Michaels need to continue their life of champagne and roses.”