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When Bex and I finish filling up our three bags with everything we need, Alvie takes them out to the truck without a word.
“Is he okay?” I ask Bex as she locks the door.
“I think he’s feeling conflicted. He’ll talk to us when he’s ready.”
“Conflicted about what?”
“You, Nay.” Bex turns and walks away, leaving me dumbfounded.
The drive into Houston is pretty quiet, only the sound of drawling country voices filtering through the speakers. When we reach the outskirts of the city, Bex suggests that I send Selene a text to let her know we’re on our way to their place.
Naomi: Just passing through Katy. We should be at your place in an hour-ish.
Selene: Bitch, I know. I have your location, remember?
Selene: You gonna tell me why you were driving through central Texas at 3am last week though?
“Shit,” I whisper, but Bex hears and looks over her shoulder at me. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Naomi: Sorry. I kind of had a crisis and drove down early.
Selene: I heard.
Naomi: What? Heard from who?
Selene: Alvaro called me that night. I just figured you’d tell me in your own time.
Naomi: I’m sorry. I’ve been avoiding talking about it.
Selene: And avoiding me is . . . part of that?
Naomi: No! Never! I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been in my head a lot lately.
Selene: Fine, but when you get here, we’re all going to get manicures without the guys before we go to the rodeo. We can talk then.
Naomi: Okay.
Naomi: I love you, Lena.
Selene: Love you too, cariña. :kissy face
“Selene?” Bex asks.
“Yeah. Evidently, we’re getting manicures when we get there.” I pause. “And talking.”
“Oh. Ominous.” Bex chuckles.
“Yeah, apparently someone called her about last week and spilled my business.”
Alvie’s brow furrows. “She’s your best friend. She deserves to know when you’re hurting. People are allowed to show up for you when you need them.”
“I know.” I sigh and lean into the window to gaze out for the rest of the drive.
We arrive without incident, and immediately Selene tackles me before loading me in her convertible, Bex choosing to stay back to take a nap, to whisk me off for pampering at a spa and gelato.
The private club Selene takes me to, and specifically their spa, is nicer than any place I’ve ever been. Normally, I just go to one of those nail places in a strip mall when I treat myself to pampering, which isn’t often with my budget.
“Hi, Ms. Selene,” the attendant greets us cheerfully when we walk into the spa lobby. “We’re ready for you whenever you would like to go back.”
