We pile essentials onto the cart and stop for samples when we can. Bree selects more cereal than one person could ever eat in a month, reminding me how much she loves sugary Captain Crunch and Fruit Loops. That girl would eat cereal for dinner when we were kids, when her parents let her—which they didoften, because they were pretty absent, especially when she traveled.
I raise an eyebrow. “Should we swing through the produce aisle again?”
“I have bananas,” she reminds me. “And apples.”
“What about greens?”
She grins, her brown eyes sparkling beneath layers and layers of makeup. “Are you worried about me, Benny?”
I gesture to the jumbo boxes of cereal. “Should I be?”
“No.”
“Okay.” She’s an adult. I don’t have to force feed her iron or vitamin A. I don’t have to worry about her health at all. She’s a blip in my life, and I need to remember that.
But Bree Belacourt can’t really be a blip, can she? Our history aside, this woman is everywhere—TV commercials, advertisements, perfume billboards, the radio, my head. To say nothing of the songs I’m constantly composing for her. I haven’t been given the chance to forget her in the last decade.
Not that I want to.
Do I?
“Besides, my neighbor makes killer green smoothies. Should we get more spin—ooo, fruit snacks!” she squeals, dangerously cutting in front of another cart to get to the Welch’s. She picks up a box and lifts her eyebrows. “Want a box?”
I chuckle, unable to help it. “I’m good.” I pass her and lift a few cases of protein drinks. When we make it to the register, it’s apparent that we should have gotten a second cart. Bree has enough food to feed an entire kindergarten classroom and half of their parents for a week. We check out, and I steer her away from the food court. “I have something else in mind for dinner.”
“Better than a giant hot dog?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.
I point at her, pausing as I load up the groceries in the trunk. “Don’t knock it. They’re the best hot dogs around. But I have something better.”
We pull into a small sandwich shop across from the local junior college, painted blue and full of college-aged kids. I help her order, and we cross the street to eat on the grass in front of the school. Tall oak trees offer us shade from the late afternoon sun, but the dappled light shifts with the wind, making the grass sparkle. I lay out a blanket I keep in my truck, and we sit facing each other, our legs spread out around unwrapped sandwiches on large squares of waxy paper.
“It’s saucy,” she says, eyeing her messy sandwich.
“Trust me.” I take a bite of heaven and close my eyes to enjoy it.
Bree copies me, and the moan she emits is loud. “Okay, I’m a believer.” She shifts uncomfortably, adjusting her waistband, then takes another bite. “These aren’t my shorts. They fit kind of funny,” she explains, fiddling with the waistband again.
My mouth stops mid bite. I finish, then keep my gaze on her face. “Did you, uh, find those in the closet, too?”
“What? No!” Bree laughs, the sound ringing out around us. “You make me sound like such a creeper. I only opened the closet so I could hang up my stuff. These came with me. I raided my sister-in-law’s drawers before I left Florida. I couldn’t really expect to slide under the radar wearing my own clothes.”
“She was cool with that?”
Bree takes another bite, chews, and swallows it. “Cat doesn’t know. Well…she probably does now.”
“Bree.”
She drops her head back and groans. “I know! Okay? I’m the worst. Noah’s probably already ordered her a whole new wardrobe. I couldn’t risk going shopping, and everything I have—I just needed to blend in better. Her clothes are so perfectly ordinary.”
“You really thought out this whole escape thing.” It was a premeditated activity. A question dangles between us, but Idon’t say it out loud. I’m thinking it hard enough I hope she can read it through my forehead.What are you hiding from?
Bree keeps eating. I wish it wasn’t so bright out here so she wouldn’t have to wear the sunglasses. They’re a good disguise too, but I want to see her eyes.
“I needed to get away,” she finally says.
“You didn’t want to go sit on a warm beach somewhere with Olive and Zoey?”
Bree’s brow wrinkles. “My sisters have a lot going on. Don’t get me wrong, they would be here if I needed them. But…my family isn’t…I don’t know how to explain. I was already hiding out in my brother’s house. He would have let me stay as long as I needed to, but I’ve been so wrapped up in the Belacourt brand for so long, I think I needed a break from all of it.” She rubs her temple. “That sounds awful.”
