“And keep out of the sun and hot tub?” Delaney asked.
“Who has a hot tub?”
She scrunched up her nose. “I mean, no one. Just in case.”
Jules and I laughed. At least she was smart enough to have drunk water in between drinks last night. I, on the other hand, was so excited about the tattoo that responsible all-night drinking flew out the window. Shots to celebrate, way too many vodka sodas, and I was paying the price.
“So what did Pia say about getting one too?” Jules asked, popping a bun into her mouth. She’d already eaten eggs, saying she needed protein to start the day. For me, carbs would do just fine.
“She just laughed, so not sure if she’s on board or not.” Delaney looked at me. “What did Beck think?”
“How do you know I told him?”
“Because you tell him everything. Or was that picture for your parents?”
Jules laughed. “Wonder what Mr. and Mrs. O’Malley will say?”
I was more concerned about the way Jules was looking at me when she asked the question. I knew her. That was a very suspicious-looking expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Jules?”
I was going to kill her. Delaney was looking on with interest, and this was not a discussion I wanted to get back to Parker.
“Fine. I know you. Something is… off with Beck.”
Yep. She was dead.
“Is he okay?” I asked innocently, trying to deflect.
Too late. Delaney was also now looking at me as if I was the latest installment of a relating dating show.
“I don’t know. You tell us.”
I wiped my sticky fingers on a napkin, dredging up my most nonchalant tone. “I think so. I mean, the whole selling O’Malley’s thing was a shock to him. And to me too, actually. But he’s seriously considering buying and I hope he does.”
“Not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
I looked pointedly to Delaney and then back to Jules.
“If you want this convo in a lock box, just say the word,” Delaney said.
I had the subtlety of a marching band. So much for my spy career.
Jules raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been smiling at your phone like it holds the meaning of life since last night.”
I sipped my coffee slowly. “Maybe I just like cinnamon buns.” I leaned back, trying to play it cool, but the truth was apparently broadcast through every text notification.
Jules wasn’t wrong. I reached for a bun, despite vowing not to eat any more. Now it was just stress eating.
The two of them waited.
Screw it. My life was complicated enough without trying to figure this all out on my own.
“Lock box?” I asked Delaney.
