Abby Gaines – Her Best Friend's Wedding (страница 7)

“I’m enjoying that book of yours,” Daniel told Meg. “The Politics of Poverty. Brilliant.”

“Hey, that’s mine.” Sadie edged around Trey to get back in the conversation. “I lent it to Meg.”

“Oops.” Meg faked a guilty look, and Daniel laughed.

“You should read it. You’d enjoy it, Meg.” Unconsciously Sadie fingered a lock of her hair. It had been mousy-brown when she was younger, Trey remembered. Today it had gleaming gold highlights.

As if he was mirroring her, Daniel stroked Meg’s dark hair.

Immediately Sadie’s hand dropped to her stomach, as if she felt nauseated. Her eyes on Daniel were wide and unhappy.

Trey’s sister-protection sensors went on high alert. He tried to shut them off—Meg’s expectation that other people would fix her problems irritated him like nothing else—but old habits died hard.

Sadie likes Daniel. That was why she’d been sneaking around his mom’s place last night.

It couldn’t be true…could it?

As Meg leaned into Daniel and they began a murmured conversation of what sounded like mutual, breathless compliments, Sadie blinked suspiciously fast.

Dammit!

Trey leaned into her. “Get a grip,” he muttered.

She started, which at least pulled her attention off the doc. “Excuse me?”

His hand closed around her elbow; he turned her so she couldn’t see Meg. “Quit looking as if you’re about to commit suttee on the grill because my sister’s boyfriend touched her.”

She tugged, but he didn’t release her. “That’s ridiculous,” she hissed.

“Exactly. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Meg asked.

They froze. Sadie turned beet-red to the roots of her hair.

“Sadie’s telling me about her exciting life as a future Nobel laureate,” Trey said. Meg’s gaze traveled to the hold he had on her friend’s elbow, so he let go. “You must have some interesting colleagues at that lab of yours, Sadie.”

“Uh…” she said.

“Intelligent guys on a decent income,” he clarified. “Have you dated anyone there?” As in, go find your own man. Leave Meg’s alone.

“You’re being weird, Trey,” Meg said.

“Are those your criteria, Sadie?” Daniel teased. “I didn’t know you were looking.”

Sadie’s brother Jesse approached, bearing a bowl of chips. “No ordinary guy will do for Sadie,” he said, butting in to the conversation. “He’ll need to be a genius, the noble do-gooder type, willing to treat her with the awe she’s used to.”

Sadie took a couple of chips with one hand and punched Jesse’s shoulder with the other. “Shut up.”

“Those are some high standards, Sadiebug.” Daniel took a handful of chips but his gaze remained on Sadie. His expression held fondness and…was that regret? And what was with the Sadiebug?

“She deserves the best,” Meg said loyally. “Whereas I definitely don’t need a genius—my guy has to be dumb enough to love me despite my flaws.” She grinned. “A platinum AmEx would come in handy, too.”

Daniel laughed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I may be the boss at the clinic, but I’ll never earn millions. The best you can hope for is that I’ll be able to support you in the manner to which you’re accustomed.”

Support Meg? That sounded serious.

Meg and Daniel were too busy gazing into each other’s eyes to notice the strangled sound from Sadie. As Trey watched, her face turned red.

To think he’d grown up next door to her and had never known she was a psycho.

Grasping her arm again, he swung her away from the group. “Breathe,” he ordered in her ear.

Sadie stared at him, mouth open, eyes glazing over.

“If you don’t breathe, I’ll sit you down and shove your head between your knees until everyone knows what a nutcase you are.”

She dragged in a great gulp of air, wheezing like an asthmatic.

“Now out,” Trey ordered.

She let the air out again.

“Am I going to have to instruct you through every breath for the entire weekend?” he demanded.

“I— No.” She coughed.

“Are you okay, Sadie?” Meg asked.

They’d attracted the attention of the entire company. Sadie closed her eyes, as if people wouldn’t be able to see her if she couldn’t see them. It was an oddly defenseless reaction.

“She was choking on a chip,” Trey explained, bailing her out. “All clear now, Sadie?”

“Absolutely.” She smiled shakily.

“Better add ‘able to perform the Heimlich maneuver’ to the checklist for your perfect man,” Jesse said. “Too bad your doctor boyfriend dumped you.”

Trey felt a twinge of sympathy for her.

“What doctor boyfriend?” Meg and Daniel asked simultaneously.

“I have no idea what he means,” Sadie said.

She’d had a major breakup, and she hadn’t told her best friend?

Her mom overheard. “Honey, I’m sorry. When you mentioned you were bringing a boy home—” Mary-Beth made her sound sixteen again, and Sadie was clearly unthrilled “—I told a couple of people.”

Trey figured everyone here had heard that at last Sadie had a boyfriend who might stick. The surrounding faces were studies in loving pity. All except—

“What boyfriend?” Meg asked again. “How come I never heard about him?”

Uh-oh. Suddenly Trey figured it out.

Meg turned to Daniel. “Did you know—” She stopped, then whirled back to Sadie, her eyes wide. “Tell me it wasn’t—” Just in time, she clamped her mouth shut.

Jesse, who’d always been quick-witted, picked up on the unspoken question. Unfortunately, he’d also always been a loudmouth. “No way, Sadie,” he hooted. “Was Daniel your boyfriend?”

CHAPTER FOUR

NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME for the world to end, Sadie decided. One minute ago would have been even better.

Her mother made a protective, worried sound, like a lioness about to maul Meg, or Daniel, or both. Jesse let out a low whistle. Brothers. Who needed them?

Sadie did the only thing she could—she laughed.

It came out squeaky.

“Of course Daniel wasn’t my boyfriend,” she said. Shrilly.

Varying degrees of mortification and sympathy showed on everyone’s faces. No one believed her. Behind her, a hot dog spat on the grill; the smell of charring beef made Sadie feel sick. She couldn’t bear it if Daniel realized how she felt about him.

She had to do something.

Her brain, the one that commanded a hefty six-figure salary, sputtered and died.

Her mother wrapped an arm around her, a loving tentacle. Any moment now Mom would drag her into the kitchen for a dose of cod-liver oil and a cup of hot cocoa.

“Mom.” She pulled away, and this time the laugh was better—more incredulous, less hysterical. “I told you, it wasn’t Daniel.”