“Shit. Are you always this fucking nice? You apologizing never occurred to me so now I’m pissed off with nothing to do about it.”

“Welcome to my world,” I chuckled humorously and sipped on my beer. Em smiled tightly at Katrina but I had a feeling she was beating herself up over what this girl had said.

“If it makes you feel any better, I was lying when I said you’d smell your husband’s aftershave on me if you ever let him out of your sight. I was just trying to get a rise out of you. I don’t mess with married men,” she admitted to Em, and I was horrified. I don’t care how badly Em had judged this girl in the past, but making a wife think her husband is going to fool around behind her back is a low blow.

“Thanks,” Em replied with a half-smile, “but that didn’t really bother me that much. My husband wouldn’t cheat on me. But it’s nice of you to say so.”

“Are you for real? I thought judgy Emily was bad. I’m not drunk enough to deal with sorry, sweet, sugary Em. Let’s just agree that we’re not gonna be best friends any time soon. I’ll stop being bitchy if you stop being disapproving, and we’ll see if we can go a whole shift at least pretending to be nice.”

Man, this girl sucked at being nice almost as much as I did. She seriously needed to spend more time with Em. No doubt Em was racked with guilt for misjudging this girl.

“Okay,” Em said, still looking tortured.

“I’ll see you at Daisy’s then,” she said standing up from the table, “and happy twenty-first.”

She walked away, and Em sighed deeply.

“Hey, no browbeating today. It’s your birthday so let’s dance.”

Lifting her off my lap, I let her guide me through the throng of people to the dance floor, my hands resting on the gentle curve of her hips to make sure I didn’t lose her. I felt her tighten up as we moved our way through everyone. Even drunk she struggled to fight being a natural introvert. A lifetime of trying to blend into the background didn’t change just because she’d become my wife. Staying behind her, I stoked my hands up and down her hips, moving us to the beat as I nuzzled my nose gently against her neck and she shivered. It was too loud to talk without shouting but I didn’t need words. The scent of vanilla had me captivated, and I couldn’t have gotten closer to her if I tried.

“What’s up, bitches?” Tommy shouted as he parted the crowd like Moses at the Red Sea. There aren’t words to describe what he did on the dance floor. The cheesier the song, the more outlandishly he danced, and the girls loved him for it. Only when he was creeping out of their bed the next morning did they realize what kind of a player he really was.

Watching Nikki, Albie, Ryan, and the others flood the dance floor was my first warning that I was about to lose my excuse to hold Em close. When the opening bars of “We are Family” by Sister Sledge sounded, the DJ took to the mike. “Yo, ladies and gentleman. Let’s give it up for Em out celebrating her twenty-first birthday.” We whooped and hollered as Em reddened like a tomato. “Join her and her friends on the dance floor, and if you’ve got it, shake it.”

The music blared, and I rolled my eyes knowing that this was Kieran’s doing. Usually when Tom got going, I ran for cover, but as I watched Em’s face light up with happiness, I figured if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, and shook my arse so bad I gave even Tommy a run for his money. By the time the song ended, we were all hot, sweaty, and laughing our arses off. One song morphed into another but no one was in a hurry to leave. Tommy had already caught the eye of some girl, and by the way he danced, with her between his legs and pressed up against his chest, it wasn’t hard to imagine how the night would end for both of them.

“What the fuck…?” said a voice to my left. I turned to see Earnshaw staring daggers at Tom.

“She your girl?” I asked.

“My sister,” he answered through clenched teeth. Kieran, who’d been eavesdropping on our conversation, sniggered while I winced. Monday morning at the gym was going to be pretty interesting if Tom humped and dumped Earnshaw’s sister. Kier and I both turned to look at her. She was quite pretty, really. Long, tanned legs, nice, curvy figure, and straight brown hair. Em would probably call it some weird shade but as far as I was concerned, women’s hair came in six colors: black, brown, blond, red, white, and gray. Hers was brown.

“Amy, can we have a word please?” Earnshaw asked, and it amused me to see the tick in the side of his jaw. Fair play to the bloke. If Tom was rubbing up like that against my sister, I’d smack him first and ask questions later. His sister looked pissed to be pulled away from Tom’s wandering hands, but to her credit, she did what he asked without making a fuss. Me and Kier were like old women when it came to gossip, so we were all ears when he pulled her to the side of us.

“Look, Amy, I’m really pleased you decided to come out but I have to work with these guys so I don’t want one of them hooking up with my sister,” he reasoned.

“Jesus, you worry far too much. We’re all adults here. Who’s going to be bothered if Tommy and I have a little fun?” she answered.

“I’ll be fucking bothered!” he told her, losing his temper. “You don’t think I won’t get a detailed and graphic account of what you two did?”

“Don’t be such a fucking drama queen. If you had your way, I’d never date anyone,” she complained.

“Dating, yes! Dry humping on the dance floor with people I work with, no!”

Amy crossed her arms and stared at him. I half expected one of them to start growling. It was Earnshaw who broke the standoff first, his frown morphing into a mischievous smile.

“Fine. Dry hump away, but if you leave the club with anyone but me, I’m phoning Dad to tell him that you’ve gone off with a man you’ve just met.”

“You’d slut shame me?” she shrieked.

“In a heartbeat,” he answered, grinning away like he knew he’d won.

“You really are a dick, you know that?” she told him.

“Yeah, but I’m a dick who loves you.”

She elbowed him in the stomach on her way back to Tommy, which made him grunt. She went straight back to dancing up close and personal with our very own slut bag. Shit, if they got any closer, she’d be pregnant by osmosis. Amy was obviously showing her brother she wouldn’t be pushed around, but I’d bet good money she’d be sleeping alone tonight.