She smiles.
It’s small, but it lives.
Legend watches that smile land on Derby and doesn’t like how much he likes it. I can see the battle on his face. The brother in him wants Amelia protected. The president in him trusts Derby. The man in him knows wanting can turn dangerous if handled wrong.
I touch his arm.
He looks at me.
I give a tiny shake of my head.
Let them breathe.
He exhales.
Barely.
But he does.
“Sit,” I tell Amelia. “You can help us decide which wedding idea is least likely to end with county intervention.”
She sits beside Brittany, and Derby takes the chair behind her rather than beside her. Guard position. Fake boyfriend position. Emotional coward position.
All three at once.
I let him have it.
For now.
Brittany leans toward Amelia. “Fair warning, every wedding conversation in this club starts with flowers and ends with body disposal logistics.”
Amelia’s eyes widen.
Oaks calls from near the clubhouse bar, “Only because your seating chart has Elijah next to me.”
Brittany doesn’t even look at him. “The seating chart has Elijah near an exit because I’m merciful.”
“You stabbed yourself once and suddenly you think you’re in charge of blade safety.”
Brittany smiles sweetly. “I learned from the best.”
Oaks looks deeply proud and a little worried.
Amelia glances between them, and I can see curiosity overcome nerves. “You’re Oaks’s…”
“Woman,” Brittany says.
Oaks adds, “Soon to be ol’ lady. Maybe. Depending where you put that boy’s seat.”
She blows him a kiss. “Love you too. I’d leave him out, but he’s Sophie’s second cousin once removed.”
Amelia absorbs that with a faint, almost wistful look.
Chosen chaos. That is what she is seeing.
The woman can argue with the man, needle him, contradict him in front of the club, and no punishment waits for her in the car.
I know because I watched Amelia watch me and Derby earlier the same way.