The Boys of Blueberries

1

At any other point in time, Sabina Kyle would be grateful for this holiday.

MJ brushes the orange hair away from her face and smiles up at the waiter. "Thank you."

"No," Andy says, eyes widening at the several bright-colored Jell-o shots being set on the table. "No, I'm not planning on getting drunk a day before my wedding."

"You're only getting drunk if you get the answers wrong," MJ answers excitedly, smile widening to a full-blown grin. "And this is called the 'what would your fiancé say?' game. So you should be pretty good at this."

Andy lets out a sputter. "F-fiancé," she murmurs, cheeks heating. "That sounds so weird," she says, and then she giggles behind her hand. Her million-dollar engagement ring sparkles.

MJ looks at Sabina. They've been friends since college—it's a look that says this is the girl getting married tomorrow?

Sabina shrugs. Takes a long, long sip of her drink. Well, it sure as hell isn't going to be me.

If she weren't so pissed—and she's been pissed for the past two weeks, which is never a good fucking sign, for herself, her employees, and her blood pressure—she would actually enjoy this fantastic time with her best friends, sipping margaritas in a private cabana at a goddamn beach (care of the rich, famous producer Andy is marrying—he's picking up the tab for everything, as he should, but still, Jesus), being handed delicious fucking shots, celebrating the youngest's last day being a Sanford.

At any other. Andy, the youngest of their group, their little sister, is getting married, and Sabina is irritated enough not to bask in the glory of watching one of her best friends get a little tipsy the day before.

Maybe a little more than tipsy. Andy is twenty-six, but her alcohol tolerance says she's still eighteen.

The orange head pulls up the Notes app on her phone and scoots closer to Sabina. "Okay. Jenner asked the questions and you have to tell us what you think Rhysand said. You get the answer right, we drink. Get it wrong, you drink."

Andy stares at the shots. "I'm going to lose."

Sabina rolls her eyes behind her shades, but she leans forward to look at MJ's phone screen. "You've been together for ten fucking years. Been married for five."

"It's only been seven, and we broke up for two," Andy interjects quietly.

"I know, it was a pain in the ass," Sabina says.

MJ frowns. "Sab."

"Fine, it doesn't count, you were still married. MJ, go."

She fires one immediately. "When did Rhysand know you were the one?"

"Uh." Andy blinks. Her eyes are wide, mouth open. "Uh, I don't know—when he told me about his childhood?"

"When you were forcing him to take selfies with you and he couldn't take his eyes off of you, drink!" MJ pumps her fists and does a little dance on her chair.

Sabina watches the red in Andy's face go even redder as she picks up a shot. "That's so sweet," she mutters, before shutting her eyes and emptying it in one go.

The eldest whistles. Seeing Andy's expression twist into sourness as she makes a gagging sound makes her smirk. "Careful there, kid."

"I'm okay," she coughs, scowling. "Next question."

MJ shows Sabina the screen. Sabina clears her throat and reads, "What is Harton's favorite part of your body?"

"The tattoo on my wrist," Andy answers quickly, eyes wide and blinking.