The Perfect Match. Kristan Higgins

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      It was better than the truth. I love you. I’ve spent two months trying to talk myself out of loving you. How could you not know? Even if you really didn’t see how I felt, Brogan, because you’re an obtuse male, Dana did, so now my best friend has stabbed me in the heart, and you’re marrying her.

      Last night, Honor had stayed up till 3:00 a.m., looking up the term toxic friendship on Google and reading every article she could find on it.

      Dana had a whole lotta ex–best friends. Honor had been treated to many a story about them, from Dana’s sister to her neighbor to her high school BFF. And while Honor recognized that Dana was temperamental and tended to see things in black-and-white, she always thought she could handle it. In the five years that they’d been friends, a few people had said something to Honor about Dana—Gerard Chartier from the firehouse commented once that he thought Honor could do better in the friend department than Dana, and Mrs. Johnson had said she didn’t trust her (but then again, Mrs. J. didn’t trust too many people).

      Nope, Honor thought she could handle Dana’s big personality. And why would Dana fall out with her, after all? She was a great friend—available, sympathetic, a great listener. Their friendship was different. Honor would be exempt from the dramatics Dana described with such gusto.

      Stupid. Apparently, she had no clue about women. Or men, for that matter.

      But you know what? The days of ignoring red flags and waiting around for stuff to happen...those days were over.

      “Hi, sweetheart,” Dad said at her door at six o’clock sharp. His gentle eyes were worried. “Everyone’s here.”

      “Your father and I don’t want you to feel self-conscious,” Mrs. Johnson said, worming past Dad to administer simultaneous pats and scowls. “It’s just that we’re all very concerned about you, child. Very concerned. Deeply concerned.”

      “Thanks.” Honor forced a smile and followed them to the tasting room. It was really the only comfortable place on the vineyard where everyone could sit. Downstairs, a long, U-shaped bar dominated the room, but upstairs, there was a private tasting room for special events—one of Honor’s ideas. That area was like a giant living room, complete with leather couches, a stone fireplace and a smaller bar along one wall. The post-and-beam ceiling was exposed; an old Oriental carpet covered much of the wide-planked floor.

      Everyone was there, and heck, there were just too many people in this family. There were times when being an orphan held great appeal. David Copperfield never had to go to a family meeting, did he? Nor did Oliver Twist.

      “Thanks for coming,” Honor said to the room at large.

      “A catfight?” Goggy blurted. “In a bar? Over a man?”

      “I just wish I’d been there,” Pops said, winking at Honor. “You won, I hope.”

      “It’s not funny!” huffed Goggy. “Since when do my grandchildren fight in bars? I mean, I’d expect that of you, Prudence, but Honor?”

      “Why would you expect that of me?” Pru said. “Have I ever been in a fight? No. I haven’t.”

      “Well, I could picture it,” Goggy said. “Though with Carl, not another woman.”

      Honor suppressed a sigh. Pru was colorful, Faith had the looks, Jack was the perfect son...Honor was what, then?

      The boring one.

      Which was going to change. Yes.

      “Honor definitely won,” Jack said. “You’d all be proud.”

      “I never really warmed up to that woman,” Pru said. “Though she does have great hair.”

      “Pass me the cheese,” Pops ordered.

      “No more cheese for you!” Goggy said. “You know what it does to your stomach.”

      “Okay, shut up, everyone,” Honor said mildly. Not that she didn’t love her family. But with four generations present, two brothers-in-law, Faith, Pru, a teenage niece, a nephew who couldn’t make eye contact without laughing, her bickering grandparents, Dad and Mrs. Johnson exchanging worried looks...well, it was feeling a wee bit overwhelming. “Dad, get this over with, okay? I’d like to make a few changes around here.”

      “I have an announcement,” Dad said. “We’re making a few changes around here.” He seemed to realize he’d just echoed Honor, because he looked at her in surprise.

      “Go ahead,” she said, pouring herself a hefty glass of wine. It would only help, and besides that, it had a lovely nose of fresh-cut grass, grapefruit and a hint of limestone.

      Dad looked at Honor and put his leathery, grape-stained hand over hers. “For a long time, I think we’ve all taken Honor for granted.”

      Her mouth dropped open.

      “She puts in way too many hours, travels all the time, takes care of a hundred different things,” Dad went on. “Which is why I hired you an assistant today.”

      She blinked. “You did what? Don’t I get a say in who works for me?”

      “Great idea, Dad,” Jack said.

      “You can’t just—” Honor began.

      “No, sweetie,” Dad went on, his voice quiet but firm. “Mrs. Johnson and I talked it over—” Uh-oh. If Mrs. Johnson was in on it, she was doomed. “And it’s done. Also, I think it’s appropriate that Ned—” Dad nodded at his grandson “—take over half of the sales calls.”

      “Half? Not half!” Okay, sure, she’d wanted a little change. Just not this much. “Look, just because—”

      “Finally,” Ned said. “Wish I’d known all I had to do was to get Honor to punch someone in a barroom brawl—”

      “Shut up, son,” Dad continued. “Honor, he’s been tagging along with you for a year. Time to let him step up.”

      “Um, that’s okay, sure. Neddie, you’re great. But we don’t need to reorganize the vineyard because I had one bad moment.”

      “Sweetheart, you were punching your best friend in O’Rourke’s the other night.”

      Honor paused. “I didn’t actually punch her.”

      “I heard in school that you tackled her,” Abby said.

      “I didn’t.”

      “And threw wine in her face.”

      “Um, I did do that, yes. More on her chest, but...” She glanced at Levi, who was still in uniform. He raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

      “What kind of wine?” Jack asked.

      “A pinot noir from California. Flat body, too much pepper, high acidity.”

      “It’ll СКАЧАТЬ