Mya jumped in right then, her tone exasperated. “Vivian, can you not for once?”
Vivian rolled her eyes, still dying to know how Clara had managed to snag someone like Dylan. She tossed another log onto the fire, sparks popping, and turned to Clara with a grin. “Come on, when did you two even get together? It’s not like anyone’s sleeping tonight. Spill!”
She wasn’t about to ask Dylan directly—he was infamous for ignoring people.
Vivian remembered the only other time she’d seen Dylan. He’d been in a wheelchair back then, looking like nothing in the world could interest him. Guys like that were impossible to approach. How did Clara manage to catch him? The curiosity was killing her.
But Clara just sat there, not saying a word.
Vivian cleared her throat, refusing to give up. “Hey, I’m talking to you—what’s your name again? Look, whatever happened between us, I’m over it. Just give us the scoop. We’re only listening for fun, and I won’t say a thing to Louella once we get out of here. Deal?”
Clara’s lips twitched into a small smile. “You want the gossip? About Dylan?”
Dylan shot Clara a quick look, his face unreadable.
Vivian glanced at him too. Since he didn’t say anything, she got braver. “Yeah, tell us! How did you two even end up married? Honestly, I don’t buy it. If you guys were really getting married, why would Louella still call Dylan her fiancé?”
Mya was quick to scold, “Vivian, enough! Stop being ridiculous.”
She turned to Dylan, her voice apologetic. “Mr. Dylan, please don’t mind my sister. She’s just being nosy.”
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