Dobie nodded in response to Swain’s question. “Sure. Sure, man.”
Swain leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his neck. “Turns out, it’s only my lovely fiancée here who can’t seem to wrap her head around that fact.”
Eden looked away and let out an impatient breath. “You’re such a bastard, sometimes. Such a cheap fucking bastard.”
“Love you, too, choux.”
“Did you guys meet with my mom today?” Kenny asked, displaying a rare flash of insight.
Swain leaned forward and propped his arms on the table. “Oh, yeah. We sure as hell did.” He sat back and smiled as the waitress arrived with their round. She placed a glass in front of each of them and accepted another tip from Swain. After she left, he held up his glass. “To bankruptcy, ’cause that’s what we’ll be filing if I let Eden plan the wedding she wants.”
Now she leaned forward and stared at him across the table. “You know what, Swain?” She downed her drink in a fast gulp and, gratefully, detected water more than bourbon this time. “You can save your precious money. How ’bout we call off the wedding and you can save every last penny?”
Their fight might be staged, but after two bourbon shots plus whatever the last amounted to, her need to walk it off was real. Luckily, Roxy had transitioned from Taylor Swift to a soulful rendition of “Fade Into You.” She pushed her chair away from the table with a shrill shriek of wood on wood and stood. “Dobie, dance with me?”
He hopped to his feet and cast a nervous glance at Swain, who communicated his I-don’t-give-a fuck with a flick of his hand. He turned his attention to Kenny. “I’ve got twenty bucks says I can beat you at pool.”
Eden grabbed Dobie’s hand, turned on her heel, and cut a path through the couples swaying together on the dance floor until she reached the center. Other couples filled in the space around them. She turned, draped her arms from Dobie’s shoulders, and lowered her head to rest it on her arm, bringing her face close to his chin. “Thanks for dancing with me. I really need a friend right now.”
“I’m your friend,” he quickly assured her. “All I want is to be your friend, Eden. You’re just, like, the prettiest, coolest, most awesome chick…uh…girl. Shoot. Woman. I mean woman.”
His bald sincerity shot prickly little darts of guilt into her. This poor kid. She gave him a quick hug. “I’m your friend, too, Dobie. No matter what happens, I hope you’ll remember that.”
“Always,” he said and offered her a sweet smile.
She took the guilt his trust stirred up in her and turned it to misery. Lifting her head, she blinked rapidly at him. “Oh, Dobie. What am I going to do?”
“Hey, don’t worry.” He spoke fast and patted her shoulder a little awkwardly, like a man who didn’t know what the hell he was going to do if he got stuck in the middle of the dance floor with a bawling woman. “I know things with you and Swain are kinda strained right now—you guys not seeing eye to eye on the wedding—but he’s not going to let you slip through his fingers. He knows he’s the luckiest guy in this place.”
“I’m demanding,” she said and let her voice break.
“No…no.” He looked her in the eye. “A wedding is a big deal. You wanna, like, do it once, do it right, and…uh…treasure the memories for the rest of your life.”
She nodded and mustered up a wavering smile. “That’s it, exactly. I knew you’d understand. The thing is…” She blinked again and swallowed, suddenly battling real emotions. “Swain’s right. I’m spinning dreams he can’t make real.”
She was spinning dreams. Not dreams of an expensive wedding but of the happily ever after. Something probably equally out of reach when it came to Marc Swain. “It’s not his fault.” She choked the words out, took a deep breath, and told herself to get it together. This wasn’t about her and Swain and what became of them after they concluded their assignment. She had definitely consumed too much bourbon. It made her sentimental and weepy.
Lowering her head to her arm again, she went on. “I know he’s not deliberately trying to let me down. I know he’d move mountains if it would make a difference. But it won’t. We need a real solution. A real way to get the money.”
“If I had any money, Eden, I’d give it to you as a wedding gift. In a heartbeat.”
She hugged him again. “’Cause you’re my friend?”
“Absolutely.”
“I couldn’t take your money, Dobie, even if you had any. Swain is stubborn about stuff like that. It means a lot to him, to be the one taking care of me. Providing for us. He told me he’d even considered selling weed as a side hustle. I guess he did it off and on, down in New Orleans, and said it’s easy money, but he doesn’t know anyone around here.” Now she straightened and looked him square in the eyes, letting tears flow. “Are you my friend, Dobie? Are you truly my friend?”
“Yes. Swear to God. Please don’t cry.”
“I’m s-s-sorry. I’m just so stressed. This wedding that’s supposed to be the h—h-happiest day of my life has turned into a n-n-nightmare. But I think you could help make it all better, if you could do me one little favor?”
“Anything, Eden. I’ll do anything for you.”
Oh, God. Here we go. Over Dobie’s shoulder, across the crowded room, her eyes locked with Swain’s. He held her gaze for a long moment. Finally, he turned back to the pool table to take his shot. And it was time to take hers. “Would you introduce us to your dealer? I know you and Kenny wouldn’t buy from anyone mean or shady, so I wouldn’t worry a
bout Swain picking up a little business from your guy.”
The eagerness in his expression faded until he looked more like a kid who’d been called to the front of the class to give a report he wasn’t prepared to give. His eyes shifted left, then right, and then he leaned close. “Kenny and I buy directly from the dude who grows it. He’s got a handful of dealers for other areas, but I don’t know if he’s looking to take on a local dealer.”