Daughters Of The Bride(94)

“Can I have that in writing?” Quinn shook hands with all of them. “You three ready to work?”

Peter looked startled. “I thought I was going to surf. The waves look good and I brought my wet suit.”

Collins patted his shoulder. “You can surf. Quinn and I are going to write. Bryan wants to help.”

“Will I be missing out?” Peter asked, sounding worried.

“Not on anything fun.”

“Okay, then I’ll surf.”

Quinn was pleased that order had been restored. Bryan walked over to the dining room table.

“These the plans for the studio?” he asked. “It’s big.”

“It’s a warehouse.” Quinn walked to the table. “Recording studios here. Rooms for writing here. Offices and a couple of places to crash upstairs.”

Peter wandered over to Wayne. “You want to go surfing with me?”

“No.”

“You sure? I could teach you.”

Wayne shot Quinn a help me look, but Quinn figured the big, bad marine could handle the kid himself.

“No, thanks.”

“We could go to dinner later. You know, hang out.”

Wayne’s brows drew together. “Why?”

“To just talk about stuff.”

Quinn held in a smile. Despite their good looks and success as a band, when he’d discovered them, they’d been living in a van. Each of them was dealing with a difficult past. Peter had been born a crack baby and had lived in foster care all his life. Bryan had lost his mom in a drive-by shooting. Collins had never much talked about his past. None of them had ever known a father, and for reasons that made perfect sense to Quinn, they had adopted Wayne. While they worked with Quinn, they wanted to hang out with his assistant. Wayne’s was the opinion that mattered.

Wayne sighed heavily. “I’ll meet you for dinner later,” he grumbled.

“Count me in,” Bryan said quickly.

“Me, too,” Collins added.

Quinn chuckled at Wayne’s kill me now look as he stalked out of the bungalow. This was shaping up to be a very good day.



Rachel hesitated before going into the coffee shop. While her self-actualization plan was moving forward, she felt as if her newfound strength was a lot more flash than substance. She was doing a great job walking every day, and she would say she was about eighty percent on her new food plan. Her pants were looser, her stomach a little flatter, and most important, she felt better about herself.

But she suspected it wouldn’t take much to derail her. The evening with Greg was proof of that. After their kiss, she’d felt shaky and fragile for a couple of days. She’d just gotten over that when Courtney had texted her, yet again, suggesting they get together to talk.

Avoiding her sister seemed so much easier than discussing what had happened, but the truth was, with their mom getting married, avoidance, however cheerful a thought, wasn’t an option.

Which was why she found herself wanting an extra shot of mocha syrup with her latte. Sugar could always be counted on to help her be brave.

She took her drink—sans chocolate—to one of the small tables to wait. She was a few minutes early. She and Courtney had exactly thirty minutes to solve their problem. Then both of them had to meet Sienna at the bridal shop to pick out bridesmaid dresses. Last she’d heard, there were two choices on the table. The same style in different colors, or different styles in the same color.

Betty Grable had sent several pictures for them to consider. Rachel sipped her coffee as she scrolled through them. The styles weren’t bad, but the colors... Seriously? Shades of pink? Did they have to?

“Hi.”

She looked up as Courtney sat down across from her. Her baby sister looked both anxious and hopeful. Fierce love flooded Rachel, washing away the hurt. For so many years, she’d been the fill-in mom for her youngest sister. She’d been the one to make Courtney’s lunch and make sure her homework was at least attempted. She’d tried and tried to help Courtney learn how to read, but nothing she’d done had worked. It had taken a reading disabilities expert to make that happen.

Rachel knew her sister being left behind two grades hadn’t been her fault, but she still felt guilty about it. Ridiculous, but true.

“I’m sorry,” Courtney told her. “I should have told you. At first I was afraid to tell anyone because I was so sure I was going to be a disaster. That I wouldn’t be able to even get my GED. But then I did and my teacher suggested I apply to community college. That floored me. So I got the idea of surprising everyone with a diploma. It just kind of grew from there.”

She swallowed. “It’s just that I spent so long being the problem child. You know? I wanted to be the successful one. Just once.”