“So what do we do now?” I ask, and my voice squeaks a little. “How long do we carry on pretending to be engaged?”

“At least through the election,” Erin says. “But you two are cute together. Why not give it a shot?”

Sabrina sighs. “If she doesn’t win, we can quietly split after and no one will care. If she wins, we should probably wait until after the inauguration to break up. If we start planning a wedding for a year and a half from now, no one would think that’s strange. It’s normal for more elaborate weddings to get a longer lead time, but actual wedding plans will give the media something pretty to focus on.”

Sure, the media will love it, but what does Liz think? Fuck, she probably doesn’t care. After Saturday, I’m sure the only thing she wants to do is cut off my balls.

I rub the back of my neck. “Don’t you have better things to do than plan a pretend wedding?” I ask Sabrina.

She smiles. “Sure. Aside from Erin, I’m the best political mind on my mother’s entire campaign. I’d rather be putting my skills to work for her than pretending to be engaged to you, but potato, po-tah-to.”

She’s good at the political BS. She always had a mind for it. “Any plans for a future in politics?”

She snorts. “Any plans I had were blown to pieces the second I agreed to pretend that video was of me and not my mom.”

I drop my gaze back to the big brown eyes of the child in the picture. How can such a little thing mean so much to me when I’ve never met her?

Chapter 12

Liz

“I’m so drunk,” I singsong, my arms around Hanna’s neck, “a vampire would get a buzz on a shot of my blood.”

She quirks a brow. “A vampire?”

“That should totally be a roadside sobriety test. Police officers could drive around with vampires in the back seat. Like Alexander Skarsgård.”

“I think you mean Eric Northman,” Hanna says, leading me back to our booth.

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“Skarsgård is the actor; Northman’s the vampire.”

“See what I’m saying? I’m so drunk, I’m struggling to comprehend the difference.”

Hanna grins. She has such a pretty smile. Definitely the prettiest of my sisters.

“Thanks a lot,” Krystal mutters, but Maggie just laughs and says, “It’s probably true. I’m cool with that assessment.”

“I said that out loud?”

Nix slides a full glass of water in front of me. “You haven’t even had that much to drink. Have you eaten anything today?”

“Eat this,” Hanna says. She plops a plate in front of me that has two croissants, chocolate peeking out from their centers, and a scone of some sort on it.

“Brady’s is serving your baked goods now?” I ask.

“Not officially, but he’s keeping some stuff stocked on a trial basis. The scone is savory, not sweet. Garlic, sharp cheddar, and rosemary.”

I start with that one and moan around my first bite. “You’re a goddess.”

“Those are pretty popular here,” Hanna says, “but they hardly move at the bakery. I think people come to the bakery with a sweet tooth, but they want salty stuff while they’re drinking. If I can convince Brady to stock my stuff regularly, I’d have a chance to make a bigger variety.”

“He’ll do it,” Krystal says. “No question. He’s trying to hardball me on the contract, but he has no idea who he’s working with.”

By the time the scone’s gone, and I take a bite of the croissant, I’m starting to feel less drunk. Good in theory, I suppose, but with less drunk comes less happy. Boo.

“Thanks for bringing me here tonight, ladies.” My eyes might be watering a little. Allergies, I’m sure. “You were right. I needed a girls’ night.” And I needed to come home. Indianapolis is great, but New Hope is home, and a sick heart needs to be home.

“I’m going to head out, actually,” Cally says apologetically. “I have an early client. You wanna come with me, Liz? You can totally crash in our guest bedroom.”

“Or mine,” Hanna says. “I need to get going too. If the twins wake up in the middle of the night, they insist on having Mommy.”

“I should at least get a nap before opening the bakery.” Krystal sighs. “I’d offer for you to stay at my place, but I don’t have a guest room. I’m so ready to upgrade to a house. The market is just crap right now.”

“You’re welcome at our place, too,” says Maggie.

“And mine,” Nix says. “And I can stick around here a little longer if you want.”

I point to each of my friends and sisters. “Eeny-meeny-miny-moe.” Then I grin and point to Nix. “I’ll stay with her. Single chicks unite.”

“Damn straight,” she mutters.

The girls gather their things and head out, leaving Nix and me alone in the previously cramped booth.

“Don’t you have rounds in the morning or something?” I ask.

“Oh, girl, I’ve been to med school. My body is trained to run on very little sleep.” She leans forward onto her elbows. “I’m glad you’re coming home with me. I rattle around in that place. Maybe the mortgage will feel like less of an abomination if I know someone else has used one of the rooms.”

“Thanks for having me. When I’m in Indy, sometimes I forget what good friends I have back home.” Yep. Sobriety is a downer, all right. I put the rest of the croissant back on the plate and push it aside. Suddenly, every movement takes far more effort than it should and nothing sounds better than closing my eyes. “Actually, would you be okay with heading out soon? It just hit me how tired I am.”