“Okay,” I say. “But what about Rafe’s mom?”Is she the reason Rafe and Lorelei haven’t ever hooked up?
“Oh, this is the juicy part!” Tabitha’s eyes get wide, and then she glances around nervously, as if she’s afraid she’s on the nanny cam. “Is it warm in here? Let’s go sit outside, shall we?”
“Sure,” I say, following her onto the patio. I’m going to have to seek out a viable caffeine source soon, or I’ll get a headache.
“Okay.” Tabitha settles into one of the hanging, egg-shaped chairs on the patio behind the guesthouse. The view in the morning is even more spectacular than it was yesterday afternoon, if that’s even possible.
“Mind if I play some tunes?” She swipes her phone and pulls up a pop playlist, and it takes me a moment to realize why. She’s trying to cover what we’re saying from any prying ears, electronic or otherwise.
“Now I can talk.” Tabitha leans toward me. “This is just between us, okay? This is off the record.”
“Okay.” As if I’ve ever had a record, or would know what to do with a record. I have no record.
I climb into the other egg chair and lean back, giving myself a solid push before tucking my legs under me.
“So the rumor is, she got him stoned,” Tabitha says with a face of pure scandal.
“Who got who stoned?” I ask, wondering if I should have eaten something before coming out here.
“Are you even listening to me?” She looks incredulous.
“Yes,” I nod. “I’m sorry. I’m just easily distracted.”
“You’re as bad as Lorelei,” Tabitha chides. “Well, listen up, because I am not going to repeat this again. I was just saying that the rumors were that Lorelei gave Rafe drugs. She got him stoned. At some point during or after the Kids’ Choice Awards. And it wouldn’t have been such a big deal, but it was Passover, and I guess his dad is some kind of Rabbi or something? Rafe was supposed to sing with him at a big LA temple, but he showed up wasted, and I don’t know exactly what went down. All I know is that his family was mortified, and the boy band broke up.” Tabitha pauses dramatically, taking a moment to gauge my reaction.
“Okay,” I say. “Thanks for sharing. That was interesting.” Whatever went down, it would be nice if Lorelei had given me the scoop. But maybe these were details she didn’t think I needed to know. I almost wish Tabitha hadn’t dragged me out here to dish.
“Yeah, you should definitely ask her all about what happened with Rafe and his family,” Tabitha says. “And then you should tell me what she says.”
Now I get it.
“That’s not going to happen, Tabitha,” I say. “If you want to know more, why don’t you just ask her yourself?”
“Oh, I couldn’t!” she gasps, as if I’m the one who’s breached professional standards and not her.
“You could also just ask me,” a low, measured voice somewhere behind us says.
Tabitha goes pale and rigid in her chair.
Using one toe on the ground to rotate myself in the swinging chair, I confirm the source of her horror and mortification. Rafe Barzilay is standing on the patio behind us, holding a box of farm-fresh produce. He’s wearing workout clothes again, although sadly, not the same shorts as yesterday. Today, he has on a close-fitting, black tracksuit and running shoes. His hair is loose, curling around the collar.
He meets my gaze. He doesn’t look angry. If anything, his dark-brown eyes are lit up with honey-gold sparks of amusement, like we’re sharing a joke. The warmth in his eyes takes me by surprise, causing me to lose my toehold, which has me spinning out again.
He takes a step forward and catches the edge of my chair, steadying it. Then he sets the produce on a side table.
“Sorry to sneak up on you,” he apologizes.
“Are you a human being or a panther?” I ask.
“I thought I’d bring over your stuff from the farm share box. There are fresh eggs and a few other items up at the house for you, too.”
“Is there coffee?” I ask, hoping against hope.
“None that came for Lorelei, but I’ve got some whole beans and a moka pot.”
“French press?” I ask.
“Probably one in the pantry. You’re welcome to check.”
