“You are both jealous,” Eve sniffed as she sat down, “because I am the youngest, but neither of you have ever been wedding planner of honor before.”

Dani briefly considered investigating that baffling statement, then decided it was better left ignored. Holding up her wrist and attempting to look forlorn, she said, “I hurt myself.”

“Darling! What happened?”

“I got trapped in a lift.”

“What?” Chloe stood so abruptly that her cat, Smudge, almost fell off his seat on the arm of the sofa. “Do we need to sue someone? Mum’s been quite bored lately, I’m sure she’d enjoy it.” She bustled off to the kitchen without waiting for an answer and returned with a mammoth first-aid kit.

Chloe had seen so many doctors over the course of her life, she was practically one herself. Sort of. Years of rigorous study and training aside. So, five minutes later, Dani’s wrist was wrapped up in some sort of gauze, her bag was filled with borrowed ibuprofen, and she was sharing her thrilling tale of lift extraction.

“My,” Chloe murmured, her eyes wide behind the blue frames of her glasses. “Well. This Zaf fellow sounds wonderful.”

“And handsome,” Eve piped up, although her focus was on her phone.

“He is,” Dani agreed, settling down on the sofa. “I think—”

“And strong,” Eve went on.

“Well, yes. He’s very—”

“He looks a lot like that hockey player, don’t you think? The Canadian one everyone was thirsting over last month.”

Dani, who knew nothing about Canadian hockey players or sportsball-type people in general, glared at her little sister. “And how would you know what Zaf looks like?”

Eve held up her phone. “I’m watching the video of him rescuing you from the building on Twitter.”

Dani opened her mouth, then closed it. Took a breath to speak, then expelled it. Ran through a thousand different interpretations of that relatively simple sentence, then rejected them all. “I’m sorry,” she said, quite calmly, under the circumstances. “You’re watching the what?”

“I,” Eve said slowly, “am watching the viral video that just popped up on my Trending page, which is tagged #DrRugbae, and features a very huge and handsome security guard identified as ex–Titans star Zafir Ansari, carrying a pink-haired woman who looks rather like you, Danika, out of that ugly building where you work.” Eve looked up and batted her lashes, the mischievous little cow. “Haven’t you seen it?”

“Give me that!” Dani snapped, and lunged for the phone.

“It’s my phone!” Eve grunted, trying to hold it out of reach. “Get your own!”

“You know I don’t have Pinterest or Instagram or whatever the hell you’re—oof.” They both toppled off the sofa, and Eve’s AirPod fell out. While she looked around for it in the mess of pink braids and tangled limbs, Dani snatched the phone and crawled across the rug.

“I’m so glad,” Chloe said, “that we have all grown into such mature adults.”

Dani didn’t bother to answer. She was too busy scrolling up and down Eve’s phone, trying to find the trending topic she’d caught a glimpse of before—Ah. Here it was.

Shit. Here it was. An honest-to-God video of Dani cradled in Zaf’s arms, staring at him like she wanted to eat him for lunch. Which was certainly accurate, but not exactly something she’d expected to find splashed across the internet.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “I thought you were joking.”

“Nope!” Eve said cheerfully.

“This has over thirty thousand views!”

“Yep!” Eve sounded delighted.

Dani checked the comments, feeling as if she’d stumbled into some sort of alternate dimension.

Dani stared. “Dr. Rugbae? I have never heard anything so inane or inaccurate in my life.”

“You have a hashtag!” Eve crowed.

“I’m not even a doctor.”

“Let me see!” Chloe demanded.

“Rugbae? Zaf is going to die.”

Eve snatched the phone and took it to Chloe while Dani sprawled out on the floor and filed through a sudden influx of new thoughts. Zaf was a famous sports-type person? Famous enough that people recognized him in viral videos? He did talk about rugby a lot, but she tended to zone out during those conversations, so she’d never given it much thought. And, speaking of viral videos—was this ludicrous happening another sign that she should abandon her doubts and introduce Zaf to the wonders of her bedroom, her boobs, and her three-speed vibrator? Perhaps, but she was struggling to move past the disturbing fact that people seemed to think he and Dani were dating.

Of course, that assumption didn’t mean anything. It was just heteronormative bullshit, a societal compulsion to thrust independent and perfectly happy individuals together in a socially accepted way, so they could become vulnerable before ultimately growing too familiar with each other’s flaws and engaging in destructive behavior that would result in the heart of at least one party being crushed. Behavior such as, for example, shagging their neighbor and blaming it on their girlfriend’s supposed inattentiveness.

Or something.

“This is incredibly impressive,” Chloe murmured, her eyes glued to the video. “Please tell me you’re sleeping with this man.”

Dani sighed, pressing her cheek against the carpet. “Not yet, but the universe seems to think I should be.” She considered something awful. “If he wants to, that is. Which I suppose he might not.”

“Oh, he definitely wants to.” Chloe was clearly thrilled.

“He looks like Superman flying Lewis Lane to safety,” Eve piped up. “Only, you know, he’s not flying.”

“Lois Lane,” Dani corrected.

“No,” Eve said serenely. “I’m quite sure it’s Lewis.”

“I still can’t believe he rescued you from a lift,” Chloe was saying, one hand pressed to her cardigan-covered chest, her lashes fluttering rapidly. “Gosh, look at his face. Look at your face! You two are electric.”

“Chemistry,” Eve said wisely. “Or is it physics?”

“No, you were right the first time. Oh, Danika, look at this. No, don’t be awkward, look. His hand is on your thigh.”

“I’m not looking.” Dani didn’t need to; she remembered the feeling perfectly well. If she watched and remembered at the same time, she’d probably come over all . . . silly. And then she, like her sisters, might lose the ability to speak in anything other than italics.

“He’s very sturdy, isn’t he?” Eve asked.

“He’s massive,” Chloe agreed. “And strong.”

Chloe’s boyfriend, Red, appeared in the doorway with an indignant frown on his handsome face. “Hey. I feel like you’re forgetting that time I rescued you from a tree.”

“You didn’t carry me out of the tree in your arms,” Chloe said, her eyes still pinned to the phone in her hand, that damned video on a loop.

“And how the hell was I meant to do that? You were up a tree.”

“Don’t be jealous, darling.”

“Now, why would I be jealous?” Red walked behind the sofa and slid his hands over Chloe’s shoulders. Dani watched with no little awe as her hyperfocused older sister dropped the phone and giggled—giggled!—while Red whispered in her ear.

What an absolutely sickening display. Romance clearly melted the brains of sensible women. Dani was horribly glad she had nothing to do with it.

“All right,” Red announced. “I’m going to Vik’s. I filled Smudge’s bowl. See you later.” He grinned at Dani and Eve, then looked at his girlfriend again. His voice took on a low, steady warmth that made even Dani feel slightly wobbly inside. “Behave yourself, Button.”

Lord.

When he was gone, Eve gave a little shriek. “That man is so—”

“Never mind Redford,” Chloe said briskly. “Danika has a lot to tell us about her soon-to-be-husband.”

Dani’s stomach lurched. “Ugh. No. Relax. I just want to sleep with him.” The word husband gave her hives. As if romantic relationships weren’t impossible enough without the extra pressure of a bloody legal contract.

“Well, make sure he wraps it up, because people are already naming your children. And their suggestions are atrocious.” Chloe gave a delicate shudder. “Blitz, indeed.”

Dani gaped. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m not surprised they’re getting overexcited,” Eve said. “It’s the way he looks at you.”

Though she predicted she would regret it, Dani bit. “And how does he look at me?”

“Like he wouldn’t mind sleeping in a pile of your dirty laundry.” Eve arched her eyebrows, running her tongue over her purple upper lip. The lipstick clashed with her pink braids and scarlet T-shirt, which read, IN MY DEFENSE, I WAS LEFT UNSUPERVISED.

Dani stared. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know that feeling,” Eve said, “when you truly adore someone and also want to sniff their underwear?”

Dani stared some more. “No. No, I do not.”

“Chloe, you must know that feeling.”

“No comment,” Chloe said.

“Okay, let me rephrase: when you truly adore someone and also want to bury your face between their legs for eternity.”

“Oh,” Chloe said brightly, “that feeling.”

“If his eyes were penises,” Eve went on wisely, “you would be pregnant. With twins.”

Dani wrinkled her nose. “Evie, that’s disgusting.”

“Or is it?”

As one, Chloe and Dani replied, “Yes.”

CHAPTER FOUR