Page 56 of Grasp The Moment

“I think I’ll make chicken scampi. Georgia seems to like pasta a lot, and I know Deli would eat it…” I say, looking for the box of angel-hair noodles as Ryan chuckles.

“Oh my goodness, she does! Bake some cupcakes too; she’ll die if you bake,” he adds with a chuckle, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

I don’t feel jealous or even threatened that he knows this information; instead, I’m happy as fuck that someone else knows her well so I can get more information about her.

“Strawberry, right?”

Ryan nods, pointing to a specific boxed cake mix. “Has to be that one.”

Boxed cake mix? Has he lost his mind?

I raise a brow as Jace’s voice chimes in.

“Trust him. He’s had to make her those specific cupcakes every year for three years after losing a bet in middle school.”

And so, I do—reluctantly. I listen to Ryan and grab everything that he and Jace believe will make the perfect dinner and snack for Georgia. I make sure to grab extra snacks for Delilah and a small toy.

By the time the four of us are done shopping, it’s ten a.m., and we’ve bought half of the store for our girls.

We all head back to my place, I hide my gifts for the girls and immediately begin cooking brunch with the guys.

To say that I hate having these idiots in my kitchen would be an understatement.

Jace insists on reading directions loudly from a recipe he found on Sienna’s Pinterest—we’re not even cooking that dish. Ryan and Blake seem to think that my kitchen is where they’ll be recording the next episode of Food Wars, throwing flour at one another, and no one has decorated for Denver’s birthday.

We could’ve held everything at the guys’ townhouse a few minutes away, but Ryan and Georgia both believed that myplace would be better, seeing as I owned a real dining table that could seat everyone.

I still don’t understand why neither Blake, Alec, nor Jace has bought a table for their place, but I digress. They’re fucking idiots.

“Heart, I swear to God if you don’t shut the fuck up, you’re going to learn what it feels like to have a spatula shoved down your throat,” I warn, turning from the stove where my pancakes are cooking to look back at the smiling idiot.

Jace makes a gesture with his hands and grins brightly at me, successfully saying “fuck you” in American Sign Language as Blake connects his phone to my surround speaker.

The song “Night Changes” by One Direction begins playing, and both Ryan and Jace groan.

“What’s wrong with ‘Night Changes’?” I ask from the kitchen as the rest of them file out.

“It’stheirsong,” Ryan and Jace say in unison, the two of them pulling out the supplies for Denver’s birthday as Blake dances around my living room singing.

He and our coach’s daughter, Cleo, began dating a few months ago, and he’s been a lovesick puppy ever since. Seeing as his rhythmless ass is dancing around my living room like a fairytale princess, I’d say the relationship’s doing fine. Everything goes smoothly as we finish up our tasks. The house is decorated in an array of red and gold decorations as Blake’s party playlist plays via the surround sound.

When there’s a small knock on the front door—Georgia’s signal that she’s home with Denver and the girls—all of us guys rush to form a line in front of the door.

“This is the dumbest shit I’ve ever done,” Jace mumbles, fixing his bow tie as a smack resounds throughout the space, and he groans.

Stifling a chuckle, I run a hand through my hairand look the guys over down the line. Blake’s standing with his chest puffed out as if he’dactuallydone work around here. The brown of Ryan’s skin is reddening around his cheeks and neck, highlighting the sheen of sweat coating it. And Jace is well, Jace.

I feel like an idiot wearing the matching uniform, but when the door opens and the girls’ laughter rings throughout the apartment, I know that we’ve all made the right decision.

“Happy birthday, Denver!” we all shout. The sound of champagne being popped open and kazoos being whistled filters through the room as Denver’s radiant smile lights up the room.

She casts what may be the warmest look she’s ever givenanyof us around the room before striding over to Ryan and pulling him in for a hug.

They rock side to side with Ry whispering sweet nothings to her, completely ignoring us, and we all take that as our cue to ready up for brunch.

When Georgia steps into the kitchen with Delilah in her arms, something in my chest moves. Both girls are dressed similarly in pink and red sweaters, their hair in half ponytails with the rest of it down.

A small smile tugs across my face as Delilah rests her head on Georgia’s shoulder, putting a finger to her lips, silencing us.