Ooh, with the Dick? Well, at least Lia hadn’t blabbed. Daff hadn’t been certain, since Lia really was an appalling liar. Luckily her fear of Daisy’s reaction had been a great motivator to keep quiet.
I’ll see you later, Daff responded, not bothering to reply to Daisy’s question.
Crying face emoji.
You never tell me anything.
Nothing to tell. It’s over.
Another sad, sad little face.
Fine! Bring tequila. Daff snorted in amusement—look at baby sister trying to be a badass. One shot of tequila and they’d probably have to scrape her off the floor.
I’ll be there in an hour, she promised.
Daff let herself into Daisy and Mason’s cabin and was greeted by a cacophony of female laughter and Peaches’s high-pitched yapping. She made her way into the living room, where her sisters and a few friends—Tilda Stanford, Nina Clark, and Billie Greenspan—were all sprawled on the shaggy throw rug in front of the fire and guzzling down red wine like it was water. Tilda, Nina, and Billie were a few of the high school friends the McGregor sisters had won in the custody battle after their acrimonious split from Sharlotte Bridges and Zinzi Khulani. It hadn’t been worth staying in contact with the rest. They were always on about materialistic crap. Daff had once bought into that nonsense, as had Lia, to a certain extent, all to fit in with a shallow group of women. Thankfully they were past that now.
“Ladies, I come bearing tequila and sours!” Daff announced as she entered the room, and the women all squealed.
Daff went to the kitchen, already familiar with the layout of the cabin, and grabbed the shot glasses, lemon, and salt before rejoining the rest and sinking to the floor with them. Peaches and Cooper immediately came over to give her a few slobbery welcome kisses before Cooper retreated back to his bed and Peaches crawled into Lia’s lap.
“So what are we all talking about?” Daff asked as she poured the tequila shots and handed out the salt and lemon wedges.
“Tilda was saying Mason and I should have a blended name, like Kimye or Brangelina. Something like Daison.” It reminded Daff of Spencer’s attempt to blend his name with Daff’s, and she smiled fondly.
“I said Maisy,” Tilda corrected, and Daisy waved her wineglass at the other dismissively, spilling red wine all over the lovely cream rug. Lia grabbed the glass from Daisy before she could do more damage.
“Daison, Maisy . . . they’re both awesome. I don’t think Mason’ll go for it, though, he’ll say something boring like ‘We’ll just call ourselves the Carlisles, angel,’” she said in a gruff imitation of his voice. Which was sweet as hell and probably exactly what Mason would say. “But I don’t mind being just the Carlisles. Or maybe the McGregor-Carlisles. We’re still thinking about it.”
“Would Mason double-barrel his name?” Lia asked, taking a tiny sip of wine. She was a cautious drinker.
“He says we’ll have the same name no matter what, so that everybody can know I’m his and he’s mine.” Daisy said the words matter-of-factly, not even noticing the swoony sighs coming from the women around her. Even Daff barely prevented herself from sighing at the words, and she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body. She shook herself and lifted her shot glass.
“To the future Mrs. Carlisle . . . or McGregor-Carlisle or Carlisle-McGregor. I wish you a life filled with nothing but love, Daisy Doodle.”
“You had to spoil it, didn’t you,” Daisy complained, referring to the nickname, but still looked misty-eyed at the toast. Everybody—even Lia—licked their salt, downed their shot, gasped, and sucked on their lemons before upending the glasses on Mason’s expensive, handcrafted coffee table.
“Where’s Mason, anyway?” Daff asked.
“Suh-suhpensher took him out. Boysh night! S-sh-sho? Sho I figured we should have a la-la . . . girlie night!” The shot had definitely pushed Daisy over the limit, and she started giggling uncontrollably. “Sho? Izz not right. Sho . . . ?”
“God. How many drinks did she have before I got here?”
“A crapload of red wine,” Tilda said. “And then that shot. I think the shot’s knocked her on her ass.”
Daisy was flat on her back and still giggling. Lia and Daff helped her sit up and propped her against the sofa. Her curly head lolled, and she still continued to giggle quietly to herself.
“Daisy, you’re being a terrible host,” Daff said sternly, trying to hide her amusement. They didn’t often see their studious, earnest little sister let her hair down like this, and it was entertaining as hell. Daisy mumbled something in response and then chuckled again.
Ladies’ night was a roaring success, even if their hostess was an incoherent mess and passed out on the floor. Mason returned home a little after one, looking a bit wasted as well, but by that time only Daff and Lia were still there. The other women had been picked up by Tilda’s boyfriend about half an hour before. The dogs greeted Mason exuberantly and he took the time to give each one a couple of scratches before looking up and surveying the room. His brow furrowed when he saw Daisy passed out on the carpet.
“Oh good,” Daff said drily. “Now you can take care of this.”
Mason’s eyes remained on his inelegantly snoring fiancée sprawled on the floor, and his expression softened.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he went down on one knee beside her supine body. He brushed her tangled hair out of her face and palmed one side of her face tenderly.
“She’s wasted,” Daff said as she dragged on her coat, while Lia did the same.
“What did you all get up to tonight?”
“Don’t ask me.” Daff snorted. “She was pretty much a lost cause by the time I got here. One shot of tequila and she went from hero to zero in about thirty seconds. I barely had time to speak with her. Lia and the rest got her completely hammered.”
“Please, I didn’t expect it to be a night of drinking. She lured me over here with promises of cocoa and rom coms.”
Mason didn’t appear to be listening to them anymore.
“Daisy? Angel, come on, let’s get you to bed.” She groaned and swatted his tenderly stroking hand away from her face, and he grinned at Daff and Lia. “She does hate having her sleep interrupted, doesn’t she?”
“Since we were children,” Lia confirmed.
“Always with the ‘Five more minutes, Mommy,’” Daff said with a nostalgic smile.
Mason slid his arms beneath Daisy’s limp body and picked her up, going from kneeling to standing with barely a wheeze. Daff couldn’t lie to herself—that was pretty impressive. The guy’s core strength was nothing to sniff at.
He made a few adjustments so that Daisy was more comfortably situated in his arms and then gave both Daff and Lia a pointed look.
“You’d better not be thinking about driving home. Nobody leaves until I get back downstairs. We’ll organize an Uber.”
“Lia’s fine to drive, she can take me home,” Daff said.
“I don’t know if—”
“Nobody leaves,” he reiterated sternly, interrupting Lia, and Daff cast her eyes heavenward, seeking patience from a higher source.
“Yes, sir,” she snapped with what she thought was a credible salute, and Mason snorted.
“Get Daisy to teach you a proper salute sometime,” he advised before heading toward the staircase and carrying Daisy up to their loft.
Daff wondered how Spencer was after his night out on the town. Was he drunk? She didn’t think she’d ever seen Spencer drunk. Did he lose that quiet reserve when he got sauced? Or did he just get quieter? She was so tempted to take a walk over to his house just to appease her curiosity, but even in her slightly inebriated state, with her inhibitions down and her judgment somewhat impaired, she knew that was a terrible idea.
She sat down on the arm of the sofa, resigned to the fact that she and Lia would have to Uber home and dragged out her phone.
Are you drunk?
It took a few minutes for the reply to come through.
If ciurse
She lifted a hand to her mouth and stifled a laugh.
How novel.
Completely wasted? she prompted.
Ducking slaufhterd!$$!
“Who’re you texting?” Lia asked, and Daff jumped.
“Jesus, what the hell are you? Some kind of ninja?” Lia had managed to come up behind her and was totally reading her texts over her shoulder.
“That says the Dick! So you’re texting him, right?”
“Duh!”
“So what are you guys talking about? Friend stuff?”
“Oh my God! Go away . . . you’re being such an annoying little sister right now.”
“Well, I’m curious, you said you were going to be only friends from now on.”
“I know what I said, and I’m sending my friend a text!”
“At one in the morning? Do you send your other friends texts at one in the morning?” Lia asked, folding her arms over her chest, looking smug because she seemed to think she’d made her point.
“I never have reason to send them texts at one in the morning.”
“But you have reason to send him one, do you?”
“None of your business. Go sit over there and leave me alone, you obnoxious brat.”