Mariah: The M Series: Book Two by Anthony Ryanne

Author:Anthony, Ryanne [Anthony, Ryanne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2016-05-26T04:00:00+00:00

Monica brought a silk, mint green short sleeved dress for me to wear that hit just below my thighs, hunter green heels and a wide matching belt. How ironic, I thought as I looked at myself in the full-length mirror in Ethan’s bathroom. Marcus' favorite color. He is always around, even when he isn't, physically.

When I emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, Monica's mouth dropped open.

“Damn! Keep that dress, Mariah... you've just ruined it for me. I've never been able to do it this kind of justice!”

We went to Cavatappi and the atmosphere was much more calmed and relaxing at dinner time than the lunch rush. I soon found myself relaxing, partly from the smooth moscato I'd been drinking with my meal, but also the good company. Every now and again, I felt a sharp pang when something reminded me of Marcus and I quieted, but either T, Monica or Ethan would grab my hand or smile at me and I'd try to snap out of it. I didn't want to ruin the atmosphere for them.

There were eleven of us, six guys and five girls. Ethan and his friends were loud and boisterous, and they had a really good time hounding one another. One friend, Nicholas, had been stealing glimpses at me since we met. He was tall, a few shades darker than me and handsome. After dinner, while we were waiting for the valets, Nicholas made a move.

“So, Mariah, are you seeing anybody,” he asked.

Before I could answer, T stepped between us, his back to me.

“Move along, Nicholas. Nothing more to see here,” T murmured, patting Nicholas’ shoulder.

Nicholas frowned but walked away. T turned to me and pulled me close, hugging me sweetly. I missed having a brother while growing up, so much.

“Thanks, T,” I whispered, as a tear rolled down my cheek.

“He's a good guy, and if you weren't... I'll explain it later. He'll understand.”

“Okay.”

“You'll be all right, Cookie,” T guaranteed, handing me a pack of tissue.

I giggled. “What is it with doctors and packs of tissue?”

He chuckled. “You know, germs and the like. And… you never know when an emotional sister may need to wipe her tears.”

I smiled up at him. “Do you carry hand sanitizer, too?”

He grinned and produced his keys. Hanging on them was a small bottle of Purell. I laughed and it felt good. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

“Come on, Cookie. Let's go work those pipes of yours.”

* * *

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