I'm in a chair between Harper and Becca, a blanket over my legs, a marshmallow on a stick, and a weight behind my sternum.
"You're going to burn that," Harper says.
I look down. My marshmallow is fully on fire.
I pull it out and blow, but it's already a charred shell, cracked and oozing.
"That's what I callcaramelization," I say.
"It's arson." She slides a perfect golden marshmallow off her own stick, sandwiches it between two graham crackers and a square of dark chocolate, and takes a bite.
Around the fire, conversations pile on top of each other. Becca and Talia are debating whether that smudge above the pines is the Milky Way or a UFO. Maren is explaining the preciseinternal temperature of a properly toasted marshmallow to another one of Harper's friends.
Luna's chair is empty.
She excused herself ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago. Her phone buzzed, and when she glanced at the screen, something behind her eyes shifted. ‘Two seconds,’ she said, already standing. ‘Derek.’”
Looking past the edge of the firelight, I can see her silhouette between two pines. She's pacing. Short, tight loops, phone pressed to her ear. Every few seconds she stops, and her free hand comes up to rub her forehead, and then the loops start again.
I look away, feeling like I'm intruding on her privacy.
"Hey," I say to Harper. "Walk with me for a second?"
She reads my face, and just sets her s'more on the armrest and stands, draping a blanket around her.
We drift away from the fire, toward a wooden bench at the edge of the clearing where the pine needles are thick and the light barely reaches. The laughter fades to a murmur.
I sit. Harper sits next to me. Waits.
"I need to tell you something," I say, "and I need you to just—let me get through it before you respond."
"Of course." Harper turns completely toward me.
"And I should've told you weeks ago, and I didn't, and the reasons I didn't are stupid, and I know that," I say, picking at a loose thread on the hem of my sweater.
"Beth." Harper reaches out from under her blanket, gently touching my knee. "Just say it."
"I got a buyout offer. For Wildflower and Vine." I force myself to meet her eyes, bracing for the impact.
Harper blinks.
"An investment group rep approached me," I say. "They want to acquire the shop. The whole thing. The offer covers my loan,and then some, enough to start fresh." I'm looking at the ground because I can't look at her. A pinecone near my foot. A smear of dried mud I missed on my ankle. "I haven't accepted yet. I haven't decided anything. But if I did—"
"There's a high chance you'd leave Lakeview," Harper says, her breath hitching.
Somewhere deep in the pines, an owl lets out a low hoot. The sound echoes through the dark, and for a few, long agonizing seconds, no one says anything.
"I wouldn't go far, though," I finally say, breaking the silence. "If—if I did this. It wouldn't be across the country or anything. A few hours, max. I'll still be at your wedding of course. I'll still be at everything. It's not like—"
"Beth." Her voice is quiet. "You're trying to make it okay for me before I've had a chance to feel what I feel about it."
The words land somewhere soft and unprotected. I press my lips together.
Harper looks away.
"Why didn't you tell me before?" she asks.
"I didn't want to drop a bomb like this on you before your wedding," I admit, my voice thick. "But sitting out here with you tonight, pretending everything is normal, I realized I couldn't keep lying by omission."
