“We still worry. Love you, B.”
“Love you, too. Give Tag a big old hug from me.”
“Okay, weirdo. Go save some turtles for me.”
Bree hangs up. “It was one time.”
“Do you feel better?”
“So much. Yes.” She drops her face into her hands, so I pull her into my arms before I can talk myself out of it, tightening the hug until her breathing slows. She leans against my chest, and I want to smell her hair, but since she’s wearing the wig, I refrain.
“Do you want to stay home tonight? I need to be at the Beach Beautification Board meeting, but I can make you some dinner before I go.”
Bree tips her chin up until her brown eyes are trained on me, thick dark lashes and a streak of black eyeliner framing them. “I’ll come. I tried to convince Nancy to watchThe Birdswith me tonight, but she thought it would be better if I had socialization. Apparently, I’m a stray and I need to learn how to be normal around others.”
“Some of that is true,” I concede, grinning. “Mostly the part about the BBB meeting being a good place to hang out. Come on. Let’s go.”
She glances at her phone once before putting it face down onthe counter and leaving it behind. Whatever anxieties I’d felt about her needing to immediately return to her life and her sister because of this news are put to rest, but it’s only a matter of time before she leaves. I’m fooling myself into believing we can enjoy each other’s company for a short few weeks and part ways without being hurt, aren’t I?
Then why don’t I care?
Sierra liveson the other side of town, on a small rise behind the elementary school. Her house is simple, a little weathered, and very lived in. This close to the ocean, though, everything is a little weathered. Behind her house is her land, filled with row after row of flowers in the most stunning garden I’ve ever seen. She does floral design, bouquets, weddings, anything you can think of.
Which also explains the stunning sunflower arrangement on her kitchen table, where everyone has set the dishes they’ve contributed for the evening. We’re only supposed to bring light snacks, but people always go overboard.
I have a plate full of hummus with sliced vegetables and Rose’s homemade tamales, which taste amazing. The conversation has weaved in and out of BBB business over the last hour as people have munched and chatted. Bree and Sierra discovered a mutual appreciation for the same thriller author and spent the last twenty minutes debating whether the ending of his last book was meant to mean one thing or another.
“I can’t stand it when it’s not perfectly laid out for me,” Sierra says, spearing a strawberry and dragging it through fruit dip. “Just tell me what you want me to know. It can be a gruesome ending, but be plain about it.”
Bree chose to forego the shades today in lieu of extra makeup, and it’s put me on edge since we walked through thedoor. “But this way we get to choose the ending we want,” she says.
“We didn’t write it, though. Which endingactually happenedto the character?” Sierra is waving another strawberry around. “It’s like Bree Belacourt’s new song. That line, ‘Judas in heels’? What? I mean, either tell us what Jaida did, or don’t even bring it up! I can’t handle the mystery.”
Bree freezes. Her eyes are round, her mouth open slightly.
“I think she could get sued for slander if she spelled it out.” I try to step in and bridge the gap, but I’m not sure it’s helping. “Or is it libel? I mix the two up.”
Sierra pops her strawberry in her mouth. “Either way, I stand by what I said. She’s being a tease. If she’s willing to say any of it, she should come out and say all of it.”
“And face legal retribution?” I ask.
“Then don’t put out the song.”
“I bet she feels the same way now,” Rose cuts in.
I look at her with surprise. Rose is a fan? Really?
“That poor girl is being torn to shreds,” Rose adds.
“Agreed. She doesn’t deserve all the hate.” Sierra’s nodding as she speaks. “How many songs has Taylor Swift put out like this, and no one calls her out?”
“Swift is on another level,” Bree says, her tone all high and nasally as she tries to disguise it.
Colby’s standing across the room talking with Peter, and I catch his eye. He gives me a look that definitely saysthis isn’t going well.
“Maybe,” Sierra concedes, “but what do you think even happened between them? I know they have that public feud, but the song made it sound so much worse than two singers who don’t want to be friends. Judas? That’sdeepbetrayal.”
“Like steal-her-firstborn bad,” Dan pipes in.