“On his way to Peyton and Diane’s. I told him not to let Tabitha in if she comes back. The ladies got into an argument, and I told her to leave and cool down. Sloane took her home.”
“I bet that went over well with Diane.”
“I don’t care.”
“This little thing you have going on with Jules,” Viv said cautiously. “It’s going to change things.”
His boss wasn’t an idiot. “Things have already changed.” And if Rhys didn’t clean up every single headache Jules had, he would relocate to California and follow her around like a guard dog, scaring off anyone who looked at her sideways. Maybe he would do that either way.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Diane pushed from the outdoor dinner table and pressed her phone to her ear. “Excuse me. One minute.”
Jules tracked her mom’s expression then glanced at Abigail. Dad didn’t seem to notice as he regaled them with news of his golf swing. Something about a new technique or a new club. Maybe something a golf pro had suggested. She didn’t know.
“If that’s Tabitha, I’m going to lose my shit,” Abigail murmured.
Jules raised a shoulder. “As long as she’s not here, I don’t care.” She leaned over to spy on Wes sitting in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone. If Mom taking a phone call inside hadn’t caught his attention, Jules guessed it wasn’t Tabitha. Though she suspected Rhys and Wes were experts at appearing disinterested and absorbing everything.
Mom popped outside again, still holding her phone, though she was no longer talking on it. Her lips pressed together, and Dad let his sentence about birdies or bunkers drift off.
“Don’t be upset,” Mom said.
“Oh, come on.” Abigail crossed her arms. “If you let her back into the house tonight, it’s not just Rhys and Wes you’re going to hear about it from. I’m in desperate need of a long-term break from Tabitha.”
Mom’s gaze shifted to Jules, but she agreed with Abigail. “I could use the break too.”
“It’s not Tabby,” Mom said. “It’s Olivia, and I think you should listen to her.”
“No way.” Abigail scoffed. “Over my cold, dead, worms-crawling-out-of-my-eye-sockets body.”
Mom rolled her eyes the same way Abigail always did. “Don’t be dramatic.”
Jules rested her hand on her sister’s forearm. “I don’t have anything to say to Olivia, and I’ve said everything that needs saying to Mason. No hard feelings—”
Abigail snorted.
“I’m serious. Mason didn’t break my heart, and maybe I should be furious at both of them, but I’m… relieved.”
“Relieved?” Mom sank into her chair and reached for her wineglass.
Perhaps her family needed to hear the truth. Maybe Abigail would kick Jules’s ass. With everything happening, her agreement with Mason seemed so trivial. “There’s a lot you don’t know.” She bit her lip. Her sister would shake her senseless before this meal was done. “Mason and I had a business agreement.”
Dad cleared his throat. “A prenup?”
“Not exactly.” God, this was awkward. She squinted and waved her hand back and forth. “I was lonely, and everything with the stalker had been ratcheting up. It just seemed safer to have someone to lean on professionally. And sort of personally.”
“Sorta personally?” Abigail’s eyebrows inched toward her hairline. “You’re going to have to explain that.”
“Think of us more like…” Why had she decided to share? There had been a reason thirty seconds ago. “Friends with benefits.”
Dad coughed.
Mom gulped her wine.
Abigail shrieked, “Are youkiddingme? No wonder you said everything was so-so.”
“Friends with benefits doesn’t mean so-so. I said men were so-so.”
