Page 107 of A Little Luck
“Will you at least verify it was self-defense?”
“No.”
“Breaking and entering?”
“Gwen was serving him tea and doing a reading. He didn’t break and enter.”
“Assault with a deadly weapon?”
“Goodbye, Piper.” He disconnects, and I growl under my breath.
“Aiden Stone, you are well-named.”
I type up a short brief based on what I know for publication tomorrow. I have to preface it as a rapidly developing story and indicate the facts have not been independently verified. Gwen likes to exaggerate, and she’s not the best interpreter of the law.
Everyone will know the whole story by the time the Sunday edition hits the newsstands, but I’ve got it for the historical record. Not only that, it’s a pretty important event for my family.
Quickly hitting save, I upload the revised front page to the news server then hustle out to where Britt is walking through the door with Ryan and Owen and Fudge.
“There you are!” My friend hustles inside. “What a morning!”
“Tell me about it. You won’t believe everything that happened after I left your house.”
“Oh, trust me, I would.” Her eyes are big, and she nods. “Aiden got a call in the middle of buttering the biscuits and had to go to Mom’s.”
“I hope that’s not a euphemism!” I give her a wink.
She pinches my arm. “I wish.”
“What's a euphemism?” Ryan walks up and puts his arms around my waist.
I lean down and give him a hug. “It’s when you say one thing instead of saying something else.”
“Huh?” His nose wrinkles, and I gently boop it.
“Thanks for letting me crash with you and Fudge last night. I didn’t want to be by myself.”
Ryan picks up the black cat, who hangs in his arms as if he’s boneless. “I don’t mind, but Fudge thinks it’s getting kind of crowded in the bed.”
“Oh, does he?” I laugh, scrubbing the cat’s cheeks.
Fudge hops onto the counter and trots over to where Jemima is still sorting pictures from the wedding reception.
“Jemima!” I cry. “It’s after five! You haven’t sent them yet? Stew is literally holding the presses for us right this minute.”
“I know!” she whines. “I can’t choose between this one of Alex and Cass dancing together or this one of Alex and Cass dancing with Pinky holding their hands.”
Hesitating, I look back and forth between the two shots, and she’s right. They’re both really great.
“Oh, let me see.” Britt pushes between us to look.
The first is veryBeauty and the Beast-vibes with Cass’s dress swirling around them, and Alex gazing into her eyes. But the one with Pinky is too cute with her kicking up a foot and the two of them looking down at her with so much love.
“The one with Pinky.” I look at Britt, and she’s nodding.
“Definitely,” she confirms.
Jemima clicks on it and quickly types up a caption. “You really should bring Martha back to write our headlines. She has pizazz.”