Overcompensatory.
“You know what?” Sayla meets my gaze. “That’s a pretty good reminder of why we’re here in the first place. For your dad, right?”
“Yes … and … for Bridger,” I say, hoping my lips don’t tremble.
Her mouth curves up gently. “We’re here for you, too, Lo Lo.”
“I know, and you’re the best. Both of you.”
Dex lifts his glass. “To friendship.”
“To us.” Sayla raises her flute.
Behind me, a deep voice rumbles, “Toasting without me?” I startle and spin around, bumping into the wall of Bridger’s chest. He immediately reaches for my shoulders, steadying me with his wide palms. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.” On the contrary, I’d been feeling off-balance, but now a blanket of relief settles over me. He’s changed into dark-wash jeans and a fitted henley that’s the same gray as his irises. His tousled hair flops over his forehead like he’s been too busy to brush it. “I’m glad you’re here,” I say.
“Me too. Better late than never.”
“Look over here!” Sayla aims her phone camera at us. “Say cheese!”
Bridger glances down at me. “Photo evidence?”
“Exactly.”
He slides an arm around me.
And I don’t mind.
“Pretend to be a real couple,” Sayla says, taking another string of pictures. “Get closer, now.” Bridger gathers me to him, and as I sink into his arms, the scent of sandalwood envelops me. If the man was late because he had to shower with this body wash, so be it.
“Closer,” Sayla urges.
“If we get any closer, I’ll be on top of him,” I say.
Dex chortles. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“That’s enough.” Bridger shoots him a warning look. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure when I got here, I interrupted a toast.”
“You are correct, sir.” Dex pushes the remaining champagne flute into Bridger’s hand, then he makes another toast to friends, while Sayla records a boomerang on her phone.
“Tobestfriends.” She sneaks a quick peek in my direction.
Bridger nods. “To the ones you’d do anything for.”
We all clink, and I take a sip, then move to set my glass down, but Bridger raises his again.
“To Loren’s dad.”
I blink.
“Good one.” Dex leans into the fresh toast. “To Mr. Loren’s dad.”
“To Harlan,” Sayla says.
“This is very nice.” I swallow against the lump in my throat. “But you’re going to make me cry.”
“No! No waterworks tonight,” Sayla says. “This is supposed to be a bachelor and bachelorette party, kids. So grab your drinks, and let’s go play some shuffleboard. Then darts. Maybe pool. And don’t forget to act casual. Like I’mnotfollowing you around taking oh-so-candid pictures and video.”