70- Dalton

I didn’t know how Rae did it. Stepping up on stage for dance performances every few months growing up. I thought for sure I’d puke just getting everything set up for my make-or-break moment at the Promenade. If I thought about actually having to dance in front of everyone at the end of this ill-thought-out shindig, I just might lose my breakfast.

“Don’t jack it up now, brother,” Dillon clapped me on the shoulder and gave me a shake. “Dude, you look a little green.”

I didn’t like the way he was peering at me, like I’d grown a second head. “You try throwing it all on the line for a girl with everyone you know—and people you don’t know—watching you. You’d be a little green around the gills too.”

Dillon flinched back. “Yeah, no. No way would I do that for a girl. Nope. The trend stops with you three.”

He had a valid reason for concern. Us Cunningham brothers were notorious for putting on quite the spectacle to get the girl. When I’d hatched the original plan with Lincoln, it had grown leg