Bridesmaid Undercover: An incredibly steamy, hilarious, friends to lovers, love triangle romantic comedy

EVERLY

“Wait, what are you doing?” Ember asks over my speakerphone as I fix my makeup for the date.

“You heard me, Ember,” I say, feeling exhausted from the day.

“You’re going on a double date with Hardy and Mabel?”

“Maple, and yes, but I’m going because they’re setting me up with Timothy. Maple is friends with him, you know, the guy from bowling, and I guess he was nervous so we’re doing this foursome thing. Plus, it helps out Hardy.”

“And you’re okay with that?” she asks.

“I have to be,” I say as I blot some powder over my T-zone. “He’s set on her, Ember. And shouldn’t you be happy I’m moving on?”

“I am happy that you’re looking toward someone else to date. I think that’s great, but I’d rather you not do it with the guy you’re crushing on.”

“Well, this is the option at the moment. I’m sure the second date won’t be a foursome. I think it’s just to warm everyone up, you know?”

“I get it. And you think there’s going to be a second date?”

I pick up my curling iron and start curling the ends of my hair, feeling off-kilter with my hair down. Can’t remember the last time my hair wasn’t in a bun or a ponytail. But I figured, might as well get dolled up and act like this is a real date.

“When we spoke at bowling, he seemed real cool, easy to chat with, which confuses me. I don’t understand why he’s nervous to go on a solo date with me.”

“Maybe he’s comfortable in social settings at first but one-on-ones make him nervous.”

“Perhaps,” I say. I blow out a low breath. “God, Ember, I hate dating. I just wish I had someone in my life without the process of finding them.”

“But isn’t that where the fun comes in? Testing different people to see if they’re the one for you?”

“No,” I answer. “I just want someone, that’s all, no testing. I just want the universe to place the man I’m supposed to be with right in front of me without any of the work.”

“Do you really think that would be fair to the rest of us who have gone through terrible date after terrible date?” Ember asks.

“Uh, after the date with Tomothy, I think I deserve the universe to place a man right in front of me.”

“Tomothy was not that bad.”

“Ember,” I say in a stern tone, which makes her laugh.

“I didn’t tell you this, because I thought that maybe you were still too raw after our joint date, but when Trevor got back to work, Tomothy couldn’t stop talking about a date he went on and how he was too good for her.”

“Stop,” I say, pausing my hair curling. “He did not say that.”

“He did.”

“Did Trevor put him in his place?”

“Trevor is a quiet one, you know that, but he did send an email to the company gossip who spread the word.”

I chuckle. “Ah, classic Trevor. And did word get around?”

“Quickly,” Ember says.

“Freaking Tomothy. That man will haunt me forever. Did I tell you I had a dream the other night and he was in it? I came home and he was sitting at my table, gnawing on his cat’s paws.”

“Oh my God.” Ember busts out in laughter. “That’s disgusting.”

“I know, I can still hear the sound of the gnawing.”

“I might throw up. Stop talking about it.”

I chuckle and finish up my hair. “Okay, I need to go, I don’t want to be late.”

“What are you wearing?”

I glance down at myself and say, “High-waisted jeans, red off-the-shoulder crop top, red lips.”

“Ooo, that sounds good. You look great in red.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I feel a little awkward because my hair is down, and normally, I’m either in professional clothes or loungewear, so this is slightly uncomfortable.”

“It’s only a few hours—suck it up.”

I chuckle. “Such a loving sister.”

“I know. Have fun and remember, you’re on the date with Timothy…not Hardy.”

“Oh my God, Ember. I know!”

She laughs. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

This isthe problem with being someone who needs to be early to every occasion, not on time, but early, because now that I’m here, I’m waiting in the restaurant’s entryway for everyone, hoping and praying Timothy doesn’t show up first because I can already tell I’ll be awkward.

I need a good buffer. Hardy or Maple will do. Any kind of buffer.

Just someone.

I lean against the wall of the entryway, scanning the restaurant and taking in the atmosphere. It’s pretty chill here, fun, boisterous. Not pretentious, which is key. I think we’ll have a good time, especially since there’s a large bar in the middle of the space. I considered sitting at the bar while waiting, but didn’t want to look like I needed a drink to relax, even though a drink right about now would be ideal.

The door opens to the restaurant, and I glance over to spot Hardy walking through.

Thank God.

He’s wearing classic jeans and T-shirt—the way his shirt clings to his chest looks amazing, and his jeans are rolled up over his ankles just enough to show off his brown boots. He has the whole sexy lumberjack look down.

He looks to the right where I am yet his gaze skims over me, continuing to look around.

Did he not see me? It’s not that dark in here.

I lift off the wall. “Hardy.”

He turns to the right again and when his eyes land on me, his expression morphs into surprise. “Oh shit,” he says. “I didn’t recognize you, Everly.”

He walks up to me, places his hand on my waist, and leans in to press a kiss to my cheek. When he pulls away, his eyes fall to mine. “Hell, you look good, Professor.”

My cheeks flame from both the compliment and the feel of his lips on my cheek. Stop, Everly. He wants another woman. Stop enjoying his cheek kisses so much. They mean nothing. He gives them to everyone.

“Thank you,” I say as I catch him giving me another once-over, which only increases the temperature in my body. That’s the last thing I need right before Timothy gets here. No one likes a sweaty mess on a foursome date.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down,” he says as he tugs on a curl, his eyes still focused on me. “I like it.”

“It feels weird having it down,” I say.

“Well, it looks really good.”

When our eyes meet, he smiles sweetly, and fuck me, I wish this was just me and him. I wish this date was between us and only us. I wish he wasn’t interested in Maple but interested in me. I wish Timothy wasn’t even in the picture.

I wish he’d put his arm around my waist and guide me through the restaurant, so we would spend the evening talking, laughing, and casually touching each other. Then, when the time was right, he’d lean in, lift my chin with two of his fingers, and kiss me, but this time, it would be on my lips.

Ugh, maybe Ember was right—maybe this was not a good idea.

“Oh, here they are,” Hardy says, nodding toward the entrance where Timothy opens the door for Maple. He leans in close. “Be cool, Plum.”

Sure…right, be cool. And just how am I meant to be cool when the man next to me smells so divine?

Maple walks up to us, her hands clasped together while Timothy follows closely behind. “Hey,” she says to the both of us.

Jealousy rips through me as Hardy leans in and places a kiss on her cheek in a greeting—this time not falling into her chest. And then he shakes Timothy’s hand. “Good seeing you, man. Surprised you want to have dinner with me given how I ruined your bowling league dreams.”

Timothy chuckles. “I blame myself for not reading the rules. I didn’t know we were going to be eliminated right away. I was talking to a friend about it, and he said they do that to weed out the people who aren’t serious.”

“They probably knew we weren’t serious the minute Hardy tossed a bowling ball in the ceiling,” I say.

Hardy gives me a look that makes me chuckle.

“Yeah, that didn’t cast the team in a good light. We made a lasting impression but not a good one,” Timothy says before turning to me. “Hey, Everly. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” I say. “So do you.”

He does. He’s a very handsome guy. Lankier than Hardy, but that’s okay—I’ve never really dated anyone with the kind of muscle Hardy has. I like Timothy’s glasses and the scruff on his jaw. He has kind eyes and a great smile. He’s the guy that makes you pause for a moment when you’re in the grocery store because he catches your attention.

“Thanks,” he says, and then we all stand there, awkward and silent.

Timothy smiles at me.

I smile at him.

Maple smiles at everyone.

Hardy smiles at Maple.

I shift.

Timothy sticks his hands in his pockets.

Maple clutches her purse.

Hardy rocks on his heels.

God, this was a really bad idea.

“Uh, well, should we let the hostess know we’re all here?” I ask.

“Yeah, great idea,” Hardy says and then leads the way.

He speaks to the hostess, charming as always, and she brings us to the back of the restaurant, seating us in a four-person booth. Hardy steps to the side so I climb in on the right, expecting Maple to sit next to me but when Hardy slips in instead, I’m completely surprised. Timothy sits across from me and Maple sits across from Hardy. The hostess sets down our menus and tells us that our server will be with us shortly.

Hardy’s broad shoulders take up most of the room in the booth, which means our arms are pressed together. He shifts and then places his arm behind me along the bench.

“That better?” he asks.

I’d prefer your hand on my thigh.

“Uh, yeah, sure, whatever you’re comfortable with,” I say.

“Kind of small booths, don’t you think?” he asks.

“Yeah, a bit tight, but if you need to plaster me against the wall, feel free.”

He turns toward me, brows raised. “Plaster you against the wall, Plum?”

I think about it for a second and then say, “Uh, not like that.”

“Like what?” he asks, smirking.

“Like the perverted way you’re thinking.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s perverted. I’d consider that passion.”

“Tomothy would consider it an inconvenience to him.”

Hardy lets his head fall back as he laughs. “You’re right. He’s too good for such a thing.”

“Far too above a plaster to the wall,” I joke.

“That guy…I feel bad for whoever he ends up with.” Hardy shakes his head and stares down at his menu.

“Do you know what my sister told me before I came here?”

“What?” he asks.

“She said that he was walking around my brother-in-law’s office, boasting about the date he went on and how he was too good for me.”

“The fuck he did,” Hardy says, setting his menu down. “He fucking said that?”

“Yeah. Luckily, my brother-in-law told the office gossip the truth and it spread like wildfire.”

“Good. Man, that guy, the audacity.”

“I know. And I had a dream about him the other night.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Hardy asks, making me chuckle.

I turn toward him. “Trust me, I didn’t want to dream about him, but he had a cameo. He was in my apartment when I came home, sitting at my table, gnawing on his cat’s paws.”

“Oh fuck.” Hardy shivers. “That’s called a nightmare.”

“I know. It was traumatizing. When I woke up, I was nervous that I’d turn to the side and find him there, at my table.”

“If that happened, I’m pretty sure I would have heard your scream all the way in my apartment.”

“Easily,” I say with a smile. I pick up my menu and then look up at Timothy and Maple, who are staring at the both of us. “Oh, sorry about that,” I say. “Just some guy I went on a horrible date with.”

“Is that why you called me Tomothy while bowling?” Timothy asked.

Hardy snorts next to me, and I elbow him.

When eyes fall on him, he apologizes. “Sorry, but she was terrified that she’d called you Tomothy and, well, I’m so happy to hear the confirmation.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling my face go red from embarrassment. “Clearly, you are nothing like Tomothy. I was just…I was nervous and I think worried and⁠—”

“Everly, it’s fine.” Timothy smiles. “I thought it was funny.”

If he met Tomothy, he probably wouldn’t think it was that funny.

“Glad you have a sense of humor,” I say. “Because I was horrified.”

“Timothy should be horrified that you called him Tomothy,” Hardy says. “No one wants to be compared to that man.” That’s exactly what I just thought.

“Have you met him?” Maple asks Hardy.

Hardy shakes his head. “No, just heard horror stories about him.”

“Stories we don’t need to get into at the moment,” I say.

“Hmm, funny,” Hardy says turning back to his menu.

“What’s funny?” I ask.

“Well, you can talk to Maple about my flatulence, but I can’t talk to Timothy about Tomothy, the cat foot gnawer.”

“Ah, I see,” I say. “Reason being because I’m trying to make a good impression with someone I’m just meeting, whereas Maple already knows your flaws.”

“How is that fair?” he asks.

“It’s not.” I smile at him.

His expression morphs into mirth before he turns back to his menu. We all take a few minutes to figure out what we’re going to get and when the server stops by our table, we order drinks and our food at the same time.

Hardy went with the burger and a craft beer. Timothy ordered a veggie burger—found out he’s a vegetarian—and a lager. Maple—also a vegetarian—went with a salad and a water while I ordered a soup bowl and an alcoholic lime seltzer.

“Soup bowl sounds good,” Hardy says. “Maybe I should have gone for that.”

“You can have some of mine if you let me eat some of your fries.”

“Ooo, I don’t know about that, Plum. I’m a real fry fiend.”

I shrug. “Your loss, because I know you’re going to crave my soup the minute it’s placed in front of me.”

He scratches the side of his beard. “You’re right, I probably will. One sniff will push me over the edge. Fine, but you are limited on how many fries you can have.”

“And how many would that be?” I ask him.

“Five.”

“Five?” I nearly shout. “And how much access do you have to my soup?”

“Unlimited.”

“Uh, no deal. Five fries for unlimited access to my soup, how is that fair?”

“I never said I was going to be fair.”

“I’d reconsider your offer, because right now, there’s no way I’d share my soup with you.”

“We’ll see when the food gets out here.”

I fold my arms. “Yes, we’ll see.”

Hardy turns to Maple and Timothy who are quiet on their side of the booth. “You guys going to fight over Maple’s salad?”

Timothy glances at Maple and then shakes his head. “It has walnuts in it, not a fan.”

“Really?” I ask. “Is it that way with all nuts or just walnuts?”

“A lot of nuts,” Timothy says.

“Hear that?” I elbow Hardy. “He probably doesn’t like your nuts.”

“But everyone likes my nuts.”

I look at Timothy. “Millions of people have had his nuts in their mouths.”

Timothy’s nose scrunches up in confusion, causing me to laugh. “Hopper Almonds. Those are his nuts.”

“Oh,” Timothy says with a slow nod. “I thought you were talking about his testicles.”

I nearly snort over the technical term. I would have just said balls.

“I don’t know him that well,” I say. “So not a nuts fan, huh, Timothy? Even candied nuts?”

Timothy shrugs while Hardy says, “Have you had the candied nuts down by the pier?”

I turn toward him, gripping his arm. “Oh my God, by the carousel?”

“Yes,” he says, his eyes widening.

“My absolute favorite. Whenever I’m down there, I always stop by and get two bags. I limit it to two or else I’ll make myself sick.”

Hardy holds up his hand. “I get five.”

“Five?” I cry. “Do you eat them all in one sitting?”

“Two per sitting, and I save the last to savor.”

“Two per sitting, my God, that would be a dream. I’d get so sick though.”

“Work yourself up to it,” he says. “I can help. Next time we have to do décor, I’ll bring some and we can binge. Maybe you can snort one out of your nose like you did with the meat.”

I poke his arm. “I told you that didn’t come out of my nose. It was the double whammy exhalation.”

“Ah, right, how could I forget?”

I turn to Timothy. “I promise I don’t snort meat out of my nose.”

“Quite the party trick if you did,” he says. “Maybe something to work on.”

“I’d rather not be known as the girl who snorts meat out of her nose.”

“I don’t know,” Hardy says. “It has its charms.”

“These are so good,”I say, grabbing another of Hardy’s fries. “The seasoning is spectacular. And the crispness is unmatched.”

He dips a piece of bread into my soup. “The crust on this bread is fucking incredible. Do they make this in-house? They have to if it’s this fresh.”

“I think I saw on the menu that they make all breads in house, including your burger bun.”

“That would explain why it’s so good.” He pops his piece of dipped bread in his mouth and groans. “So good.” He then turns to Maple. “How’s the salad? Are the walnuts making it?”

She pushes the lettuce around on her plate. “I think the walnuts are the best part.”

“Are they roasted?” I ask as I lift my drink up to my lips to wash down the fries.

“I think so because they seem to have a smoky flavor.”

“Delicious,” I say. “What about your veggie burger?” I ask Timothy, who opted for a side salad rather than fries—big mistake, but I’m not going to point that out. He must see it from the way these fries are seasoned. So good.

“Burger is decent,” he says. “The patty is pretty basic, but the sauce elevates it.”

“Sauce can make or break a meal,” I say. “How long have you been a vegetarian?”

“Since high school,” he says. “So over ten years.”

“Wow, that’s incredible. You too, Maple?” I ask.

“No,” she answers. “More recently, from when I was living in Peru. It wasn’t very easy to cook up meat, or food for that matter, so I just sort of stopped eating it and I’ve kept it going.”

“Makes sense,” I say and then the table goes quiet, everyone picking up their food to eat.

Timothy has been pretty reserved this whole time, not saying much unless I ask him a question, then he starts talking. Hard to have a conversation with someone if they’re not going to join in. Couldn’t imagine what this date would be like if Hardy wasn’t here.

“So, Timothy,” I say while scooping up my soup with my spoon. “How are the rhinos?”

“Critically endangered,” he says before going back to his burger and taking a large bite.

Okay then…

“I never would have guessedthat you’re a big chocolate fan,” I say to Hardy, who’s taking slow bites of the chocolate cake he ordered. It’s chocolate on chocolate and covered in peanuts.

“Oh, I’m a huge fan. Can’t get enough of it.”

I slice off a piece of his cake that he ordered for the table since it’s so big, like nearly half the cake, four layers of ooey gooey goodness. Unfortunately, Timothy and Maple don’t want any. We even offered the inside of the cake to Timothy so he didn’t have to deal with the nuts, but it’s a no go.

All the more for us is what I say.

“Me too. I think chocolate has to be the best flavor. Out of the original three—vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate—chocolate takes it by a landslide.”

“There really isn’t much competition,” Hardy says. “Vanilla is so bland, and strawberry is more like a kid’s flavor. Chocolate has a robust taste that complements pretty much everything. Strawberry, not so much. Vanilla, well, it just takes on the flavor of anything that it’s paired with. Chocolate can complement and stand on its own.”

“Sounds like you need to be the face of chocolate,” I say.

“I would proudly do that.”

“Ooo, you could wear your pink suit while boasting about the deliciousness that is chocolate, throw people off, make them think you’re about to praise strawberry, but then bam, chocolate.”

“I like the way you think, Plum,” he says. “Maybe even wear a shirt under the suit that says chocolate lover and when I go to surprise everyone, I tear open the suit jacket and reveal my shirt.”

“Slightly tacky, but entertaining. I approve.”

With a smile, he digs his fork into the cake and asks Maple and Timothy who are just sitting there, staring at us, “You sure you don’t want any? It’s really good.”

“Positive,” Maple says. “I was actually thinking about taking off. I have a bit of a headache from a long day in the sun, and I want to rest my head.”

“Oh no,” I say. “I’m sorry. I hate work headaches; they’re the worst.”

“They really are,” Maple says. “Um, just tell me what I owe for the bill⁠—”

“It’s on me,” Hardy says. “The whole meal. I really enjoyed the company tonight.”

“Me too,” I say. “I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Maple softly smiles. “It was nice.” She slings her purse over her shoulder as she stands. “Thanks for dinner.” She waves and takes off. Weird. That headache must really be bugging her.

“I, uh, I think I might head out too,” Timothy says.

“Oh no, really?” I ask. “Do you have a headache too?”C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

“Early morning,” he says.

“Well, let me walk you out,” I say. I shove at Hardy. “Move, you ogre.”

“Ogre?” he says on a laugh. “I’m anything but an ogre.” He moves out of the booth, and then I shuffle out as well, leaving my stuff behind.

I look Hardy in the eyes. “There’d better be cake when I return.”

“Can’t make any promises.”

I roll my eyes and then follow Timothy to the front of the restaurant. He doesn’t exit though, sparing me from the chilly night air.

“Well, I hope you had fun,” I say to him. “Maybe a good meal?”

“It was a good meal,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets and not looking me in the eye.

“Is there something wrong?”

When he looks up and our eyes meet, he says, “You like him.”

“Huh?”

“Hardy,” he says. “You like him.”

“What?” I say, as my lower back starts to sweat. “No, I don’t.”

“Come on, Everly,” he says. “Don’t lie to me. If you’re worried I’m going to say something to Maple, don’t. I think she witnessed the same thing I did at dinner.”

“What did you witness?” I ask.

“That there’s a connection between you two. I saw it at bowling, though I wasn’t sure if it was just because you’re friends, but tonight…it was evident.”

I shake my head. “There’s nothing going on there.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “But there probably should be, and I’m not mad about it, Everly. I’m really not. I think it might be in your best interest to pursue something with him.”

“There’s nothing there,” I say.

“There is,” he replies. “And I think you’re too blind to see it at the moment.”

“Trust me, Timothy. There’s nothing going on…on his side.” I look away, feeling the weight of that sentence heavy on my shoulders.

“I think you’re wrong,” he says. “I saw the way he was looking at you tonight, the ease he has around you. There’s something there.” He tilts my chin up, looking me in the eyes. “You just need to find a way to pull it out of him.”

I bite on my bottom lip, guilt consuming me. “I…I don’t want to like him, Timothy.”

“But you do.”

“I’m trying not to,” I say.

“And how’s that going for you?” he asks.

“Clearly not well.” I twist my hands together. “Was I that obvious?”

“It was pretty clear that we were on a date with the wrong people.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I…I didn’t mean to exclude you.”

“I know,” he says. “And at one point, it was kind of comical, watching you two go back and forth, especially when you were fighting about dessert and if you should get the giant cake or two small desserts to share. It was really fucking obvious then that you two should be together.”

“I thought everyone would eat the giant cake. You proved me wrong.”

He chuckles and then sighs. “You know, Everly, I think under other circumstances, we could have had some fun together, but I know when to step down.”

“I…I wish I wasn’t feeling this way.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “But now you can go for it.”

I shake my head. “No, I can’t. He’s all in with his feelings for Maple. I don’t…I don’t want to try to be with someone who likes someone else.” The minute my words fall out of my mouth, I realize that’s exactly what was happening with Timothy.

He realizes it too because he kindly smiles and then takes a step forward.

“Can I give you a hug?”

“Yes,” I say before he wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight.

“You’ll never know until you try,” he says into my ear. “I think there’s something there, but you just need to make him see it.” When he pulls away, he places his hands on my shoulders. “It was really nice meeting you, Everly. If you ever get over your feelings for Hardy or things just don’t work out, give me a call.” The corners of his mouth tilt up.

“I will,” I say. “And I’m sorry, Timothy.”

“Don’t be.” He looks past me toward the table. “Now go make that guy fall for you.” He winks and then takes off, leaving me feeling so many things.

Sad.

Embarrassed.

Excited.

Nervous.

How did this dinner seem to become a date between me and Hardy with two onlookers?

Is that what Maple saw as well? Will she be angry with me? Did I do that?

“It was really fucking obvious then that you two should be together.”

Did I commandeer Hardy’s attention the whole night? Is that why Maple left early…and abruptly?

Oh God, I hope not.

If I had my phone, I’d text her, but it’s with Hardy.

Feeling incredibly insecure and weird and…ugh, this is exactly what Ember told me not to do and there I was, having the best time with the wrong person.

Sighing, I head back into the dining area where Hardy is now sitting on the other side of the booth. His fork is poised at the cake, ready to dive in as I take a seat.

“I’ll have you know that I didn’t take one bite while you were gone.”

I barely smile as I lean back in my seat.

“Did he kiss you?” he asks with a waggle of his brow.

I meet his eyes. “No, he told me that it wasn’t going to work out between us.”

Hardy sets his fork down. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Not sure there was much of a connection there.”

“There could have been if he talked more. He was silent most of the night.” Hardy shakes his head. “What a fucking idiot. He had the opportunity to get to know an amazing woman and ruined it. His loss.”

I pick up my fork and pierce a piece of cake. “I might drown my sorrows in this chocolate.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks as he takes a piece as well. “Pretty sure Maple was just here to help you. She barely spoke to me as well, and I think the headache thing was a cop-out.” He lets out a deep breath. “I think I just need to be open and honest with her.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean, just ask her out, tell her I want to see her again…date.”

My stomach twists into knots. I knew I was right. Timothy can assume all he wants about how Hardy feels, but at the end of the day, it’s Maple he wants. There’s history there, familiarity. I can see how Timothy would think otherwise though. Hardy is a nice guy. He’s outgoing and…God, he’s nothing like his father. But Hardy isn’t interested in me, he’s just…he’s friendly.

“Do you think that’s a mistake?” he asks.

I glance up at him and peer into those blue eyes, eyes I wish I could wake up to in the morning. Eyes that I wish I could stare into without a hint of worry that he might see right through my gaze. Eyes that I wish would light up when I walked into the room.

But they don’t.

They light up for Maple.

“No,” I say, slicing another piece of cake with my fork. “I think if you want something, you have to ask for it. Maybe no more of this beating around the bush stuff. There’s only so much I can do on my end. Just go for it.” She’s a lucky woman. I’m just a lovesick girl.

“You’re right,” he says. “Fuck, you’re so right.”

I am. Hardy only sees me as a friend. As a partner in his quest for Maple. I just want to cry.

“Polly won’t yell at me now that she’s seen us at the bridal shower. Maple seems to be able to talk around me. We even had a discussion about our past. I think I just need to put it all out there. Maybe…hell, maybe I’ll visit her at work and wait for her to get off. We could walk around the zoo, she can show me around, be in her element when I ask her.”

Yup, that would probably do it.

I slowly nod. “Great idea, Hardy. She’ll for sure say yes.”

“You think so?” he asks.

Our eyes meet. “I know so.”

“Well, thanks for dinner,”I say as we head out of the restaurant.

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“So, I guess I’ll get going.”

His brow creases.

“Get going? You’re not going to walk off some of this cake with me?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“We nearly shared an entire half of a cake.” He pats his abdomen. “If I go home now, I’ll just lie in bed and grip my stomach, wondering why I made such bad choices. You can’t let me do that—you need to help me understand eating that cake was a good thing, so we need to walk.”

“Walk where?” I ask.

“Haven’t you ever enjoyed some window shopping, Plum?” He nods toward the bay where all the touristy shops are. “Come on, let’s go wander.”

My brain is telling me this is a bad idea. Very bad idea.

I should leave the man to wallow in his terrible cake-eating choices.

But my heart…my heart wants this. My heart wants more time with him. My heart wants to pretend that in some far-off land, this could be about me and him.

Deciding to make a bad decision, I say, “Where do you want to go?”

He smirks. “Follow me.”

Together, we head down the hill, toward Fisherman’s Wharf and bustling Jefferson Street. “Have you ever been down here?” he asks.

“Yeah, here and there, more toward the pier for the nuts,” I say. “But I’ve never really gone into any stores. I guess I’m not one to buy souvenirs of the place I live.”

“Why not?” he asks.

I shrug. “I don’t really know.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t have a San Francisco shirt?”

“Do you?” I counter.

He pauses and then turns to me, a look of surprise in his expression. He scratches the side of his head. “I don’t think I do have one.”

“Oh my God, and here you’re giving me grief.”

“You know, I think we need to right this wrong. I think we need to purchase San Francisco shirts today.”

“Obviously that’s what needs to happen,” I agree. “And dare I say…possibly matching?”

“Clearly they have to be matching,” he replies. “What are we, barbarians?”

“I know I’m not.”

“And I sure as hell am not. You saw me back there with that cake…no cake left behind.”

“It was an impressive takedown of a confectionery treat.”

“Thank you.” He curtly bows like a doofus. “When you were not kissing Timothy, I took a selfie of me and the cake.”

“You did not.”

He brings his phone out of his pocket and flashes me the front screen.

“You made it your wallpaper?” I ask.

“It was a good fucking cake. If you need to know one thing about me, Plum, it’s that I like the sweet stuff even when I try to tell people I don’t.”

I stare at the picture of him and the cake and chuckle to myself. “That picture is ridiculous.”

“It’s a memory I never want to forget.” He places his phone back in his pocket and says, “Okay, let’s go find shirts.”

Together, we cross the street and head toward Fisherman’s Wharf. A trolly passes by, tinging its bell while tourists stop to take pictures near Umbrella Alley. The skies are clear, the sun setting, and even though there’s a chill in the air, I feel warm as I walk next to Hardy. His arm occasionally bumps against mine, and it takes everything in me not to take his hand, link our fingers together, lean into him and his touch.

This is not a date, Everly.

This is a friendly hang out.

Do not do anything stupid.

“Are you an In-N-Out fan?” he asks as the fast-food joint appears up ahead. Unlike the typical free-standing location, this one is tucked into an already existing building. It looks more like an old-timey movie theater rather than one of the flagship restaurants.

“I am,” I say. “Big fan. What about you?”

“I think it would be very un-Californian to not be a fan.”

“Agreed,” I answer. “It’s all about the Double-Double animal style.”

“Easily the only thing you can order from there. Do you ever dip the fries in the leftover sauce that drips from the burger?” he asks as he points at a souvenir shop up ahead with a large sign stating T-shirts are sold there.

“My favorite way to eat the fries,” I say. “And you know what, I get really irritated when people say they can’t stand the In-N-Out fries.”

“Me too,” he says. “Fuck, sorry they’re made fresh and don’t have carcinogens inside of them.”

I pause on our way toward a souvenir shop. “Do other fries have carcinogens?”

He chuckles. “Probably not, but that was the first thing that came to mind.”

“I believe if you like In-N-Out fries then you have a refined palate, one that can enjoy the good taste of a potato.”

“Agreed, and if you prepare them properly, then you’re in for a solid meal. There are salt packets offered by the ketchup for a reason. You lightly dust them with some salt, dip them in the burger sauce, and then munch, munch, munch.”

“Clearly, munching all day every day,” I say.

“I love to munch,” he replies with a wink, and I feel my cheeks go red. “Glad we’re on the same page though. Not sure I could have matching San Francisco shirts with someone who doesn’t like In-N-Out.”

“It would be an immediate no for me,” I reply.

“Hardy?”

We both look straight ahead where Breaker Cane, the youngest of the Cane brothers, is standing outside of a souvenir shop, holding some bags in hand.

“Breaker,” Hardy says as he walks up to him. They shake hands, and then he turns to me. “You know, Everly, right?”

“Briefly met before walking into a meeting,” Breaker says. “How are you, Everly?”

“I’m great. How are you doing?”

“Good,” he says. “Out shopping with the wife. We were down at the wharf with JP and Kelsey for dinner. Then JP wanted to go sit on the pier with the pigeons—and I’m not dealing with that bullshit—so we decided to do some shopping. Found some new games to play while we’re in town for the week.”

“Where’s Lia?” Hardy asks.

Breaker nods toward the store. “Inside—apparently she found something she wants to get me as a gift, so she has sent me outside.”

“Ooo, I wonder what it could be,” I say.

“Probably a wooden puzzle game. There were a bunch in there. My guess is she’s going to learn how to play it first, then give it to me and show me how amazing she is at it.”

“That’s my kind of girl,” I say.

Breaker winks. “Mine too.” He looks up at Hardy. “So…what are you two doing?”

“Going to find San Francisco T-shirts. We realized neither of us has one, and now we’re here to right a wrong.” Hardy pats his stomach. “Also looking to walk off some cake.”

“What kind of cake?” Breaker asks.

“Uh, have you ever been to The Beard? They have a chocolate-on-chocolate cake covered in peanuts, and it’s fucking huge. We got that.”

“I feel like I’ve heard of it before, but I’ve never tried it,” Breaker says.

“Highly recommend,” Hardy replies.

“Good to know—maybe we’ll stop by tonight and grab one to go.”

“I think that might be one of the best ideas you’ve ever had,” Hardy says. “Well, we’re going to head down toward the wharf.”

“Careful,” Breaker says. “You might run into a sobbing JP, who is trying to be one with the pigeons. I already got a text from Kelsey, wishing we didn’t leave them alone. Now she has to try to drag JP away on her own.” Breaker shrugs. “I was not getting into it with him. Didn’t have the strength.”

“I knew he loved pigeons…and flamingos now, but I didn’t know he was into pigeons that much,” I say.

“Obsessed,” Breaker says. “I’ve never seen a sane man lose his mind over something so…stupid before. And sure, pigeons need love too, but to cry because they’re, in his words, ‘walking all cute with their heads bobbing,’ that’s just absurd.”

I chuckle because the thought of this billionaire, known for his savvy business briefings and unique ideas, crumbling at the sight of a pigeon is just too much for me.

“And then his newfound love for flamingos.” Breaker leans in. “Are you getting the emails too?”

Hardy slowly nods. “I’ve donated twice now. I feel obligated. Just got one for penguins. The picture of the penguin covered in oil…fuck, it got me.”

“You’ve donated twice?” Breaker shakes his head. “Dude, you can’t let him take over your life like that.”

“Are you talking about JP?” a beautiful woman asks as she comes up to Breaker and loops her arm through his.

The smile that breaks out across his face makes me feel so jealous because having someone in your life love you that much is what dreams are made of.

If only.

Breaker wraps his arm around who I’m going to assume is Lia and presses a kiss to her cheek. When he pulls away, he says, “We’re talking about JP.”

“Figured he’d be the topic of conversation. I told you if we went to dinner with them down here, he was going to talk about pigeons nonstop.”

“I know,” Breaker groans. “He was adamant about the restaurant location and now I know why.” Turning to us, Breaker says, “Sorry, this is my wife, Lia. Lia, this is Hardy Hopper—not sure you two have met yet—and this is Everly Plum. She works with Maggie under Magical Moments by Maggie.”

“Oh, how nice to meet you,” Lia says with a bright smile. “I’m so excited that you guys have teamed up with the Canes. I’ve enjoyed visiting San Francisco more since you’ve created the co-op.”

“Oh, do you not live here?” I ask, clearly not in the know. Maybe I should do my research.

She shakes her head. “No, we live in Los Angeles, but since the Hoppers and Canes have merged, we’ve been spending a little bit more time up here.”

“Do you ever go down to Los Angeles?” I ask Hardy.

“Not often,” he says. “Maybe once or twice. Mainly JP comes up here to talk with us. Surprised you’re here, Breaker.”

“Yeah, JP wanted to talk about another building he thinks we can turn into low-income housing, and I came up to look at it, see if it was feasible. I think your brother was talking about having a meetup this week while I’m here.”

“That would be great,” Hardy says. “Well, I don’t want to keep you guys. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“You too,” Breaker says. “And if you happen to hear wailing down on the pier, you know who it is.”

“We won’t even go near him—we’ll give him some privacy,” Hardy says, making me chuckle.

“If he wanted privacy, he wouldn’t be sobbing in public.” Breaker offers us a smile and a wave. “Have a good evening.”

“You too,” Hardy says and then they take off.

“He’s really nice,” I say. “And Lia seems very sweet.”

“She is. They’re actually college friends.”

“Oh, really?” I ask as we walk into a souvenir shop full of kitschy shirts, hats, and mugs. You name it, they have it.

“Yeah, they bonded over Scrabble and were friends for a really long time, although they never dated in college. Breaker was telling me that it wasn’t until Lia was engaged to someone else that he realized he was in love with her all these years.”

Why does this feel like my current situation?

“Wow,” I say as we move around the shop. “I’m assuming she didn’t marry the other guy.”

Hardy shakes his head. “No, the other guy was completely wrong for her, and Breaker pointed it out. He told me the best thing he ever did was open his eyes to see that their friendship was so much more.” We walk toward a table of shirts that seems promising. “I feel like that’s what I want for Maple, you know? Open her eyes, let her see me for the man I am now, not the man I was back then.”

God, just the mention of her name makes me feel ill. Not because I don’t like her—because I do, I think Maple is amazing—but because I’m jealous.

I’m so freaking jealous of her.

Because I see you for the man you are today, Hardy.

I’m right here.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Wishing you would give me a chance. Even look my way.

Open your eyes…

“What’s so wrong with the guy you were back then?” I ask.

He picks up a navy-blue shirt with a simple font scrolled across the front that reads San Francisco. “I wasn’t sure of myself in college. Wasn’t quite in tune with what I wanted, what I wanted to accomplish. I have a set idea now, and I have a passion—two things that she had in college.”

“Just because you were unsure of who you wanted to be and what you wanted to do in college doesn’t mean you were any less worthy than who you are now,” I say as he folds the blue shirt back up and puts it on the table. “A lot of people don’t figure out what they want until they’re older.”

“You had it figured out,” he says.

“I’m different. I was set in my ways from an early age, and frankly, I’m very lucky I was able to interview with Maggie and she took a chance on me, because my industry is very hard to break into. If it weren’t for Maggie, I’d probably be working a corporate job that has very little in common with what I really want to do. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be heading up fun and innovative projects like Bridesmaid for Hire.”

He picks up a green shirt and examines the front. “Nonetheless, you had it figured out and I wonder if that bothered Maple. That my life was always undecided.”

“I don’t see how that could bother her,” I say while he holds a T-shirt up to his chest, checking out the size. This design is better, with a vintage inspired font. “I like that one.”

“Enough to wear it?” he asks.

“Easily,” I say.

“What’s your size?”

“Um, I would probably want it bigger, so…a large.”

He plucks a large for me and an extra large for himself. “I think we need hats too.” He moves over toward the baseball caps, and I follow him.

Bringing him back to our conversation, I say, “I don’t think you should put down the guy you were back in college, Hardy. Clearly, he has shaped you into the man you are today, and that man is wonderful.”

He looks over his shoulder at me with a raised brow, curios. “You think I’m wonderful?”

I roll my eyes and move past him. “You know, I told myself not to offer you any compliments because I knew you were going to make a big deal about it. I was right.”

“Of course, I’m going to make a big deal about it,” Hardy says. “The professor said I’m wonderful. I think my job here is done.”

“What job?” I ask.

“Convincing you that I’m the most amazing man to walk the Earth.”

I knew that months ago.

“And why would you need to convince me of that?” I ask while I pick up a baseball hat and place it on my head.

He tugs on the bill. “So you can speak highly of me to Maple instead of telling her that spicy food gives me gas.”

My smile barely reaches my cheeks. Of course, this always comes back to Maple. Every single time this comes back to Maple.

“This one works.” He picks up the same hat and places it on his head. “You know, we could be twins.”

I look up at him, his tall stature eclipsing me easily. “Twins?” I ask, not wanting to be twins with the guy I adore. “Pretty sure we’re far from being twins.”

“Not according to Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

“Are you really referencing a movie from the 1800s?”

“1800s?” he says on a gasp. “Try the eighties.”

“Ooof, sorry, I was born in the two thousands.”

His mouth falls open and he stares at me blankly, his expression making me laugh. “No, that’s not fucking right.”

I nod. “It is. Sorry your old man brain can’t comprehend.”

“I don’t have an old man brain, you have…you are…fuck…two thousands?”

I chuckle. “Yup.”

He lifts up his hat and pushes his hand through his hair. “Fuck, when you put it like that, I feel like the older brother whose parents had an accidental pregnancy later on in life.”

“Oh God, don’t refer to yourself as my brother,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Why not?” he asks.

Because that would mean I have a crush on my brother and that’s frowned upon in our society.

Because I’ve had naughty thoughts about you.

Because this whole time, I wish you were kissing me like Breaker did with Lia.

Those aren’t brotherly things.

“Uh, because I think sharing a cake like we did tonight is sacred…not something you do with your sibling,” I say, wincing internally. It’s not a good excuse, but I needed to say something.

“You know,” he says, “that was a sacred moment tonight, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” I say, grateful that he’s going along with the idiotic narrative I’ve created.

“One might say the kind of sacred moment you celebrate with matching hats and shirts.”

“I could not agree more.” I hold up my hat on my head. “I think this is the winner.”

He taps his chin. “You know, I think it is, the only question now is…do we get matching mugs too?”

I glance over at the kitschy display of San Francisco mugs. “I think it’s necessary.”

“Agreed.”

He smirks and then pulls me over to the mugs. I steal glances of him, committing this small moment to memory. I might not be able to have him, but I do have these moments, and these are the ones I’ll hold close to my heart.