“But if we didn’t grow up in this lifestyle, for lack of a better word, I’d be in Maine. Selling boats and married to a lobster boat captain.”
“A lobster boat captain?” Jules hooted. “Specifically, a lobster boat.”
“Specifically.”
He snorted. “Jules? What about you?”
“I could be anything?” she asked.
“Anything.”
“I’d be a spy. One of those people everyone thinks is one thing—like an actress—but I’m secretly dropping a notebook with a hidden message near a bench by an embassy.”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve thought about this, is it?” he asked.
“It’s my secret dream job that you know nothing about.”
Abigail’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and made a face. “Do you want to talk to Tabitha?”
“No. Not when I’m daydreaming about my next act. She probably saw the post.”
“Yup. She probably did and has a dozen opinions.”
“Opinions aren’t inherently bad,” Jules said.
But she had to admit that when they came from Tabitha, her cousin didn’t operate from an altruistic starting point.
“They are when they come out of her mouth. You’re too nice to her,” Abigail replied.
“She’s family.”
“Only because of a technicality and her epic levels of clawing her way into Mom’s attention.”
“She’s not that bad.”
Rhys tended to agree with Abigail but wasn’t going to get into the middle of the sisters’ back-and-forth about Tabitha. In his nonexpert opinion, Tabitha couldn’t act. Her talent lent itself to whining and finagling. She’d squirmed her way into a recurring role on a soap opera that wouldn’t fall apart if her character were killed off. And truthfully, he hated that he even knew that much about Tabitha Shade.
Abigail declined her call one more time before Jules’s phone lit up. “That’s her, isn’t it?”
Jules nodded and answered. “Hey, Tabs.”
Abigail leaned toward Rhys, stage whispering, “She’s too nice for her own good.”
Jules shushed Abigail while uh-huh-ing Tabitha. “It does look like him, doesn’t it?” She winked at Rhys.
Fucking winked. His throat bobbed, and he rolled his eyes to counteract the strange tightening in his chest.
“Yes, that’s what I wrote,” Jules said. “Yes, me. Not Sloane.” She tipped her head back, making a face. “If you’re going to see Mom, that’s fine. You can tell her. I posted it online; it’s not a secret. All right, I have to run.” She ended the call. “Good gossip travels at the speed of light.”
“She’s with Mom?” Abigail asked.
Jules nodded. “Headed over there tonight.”
“She’s probably getting there as fast as she can to be able to tell Mom you’re dating Rhys.”
“That’s not what my post said.”
“But that’s what the world will think by tomorrow morning.”
