“We’re all human, Maggie. We all have our limits. If I had a sister like you, or a brother like Cole, I’d probably be the same way.”
She smiles back—small, grateful, the anger fading into something softer.
“We’re going to have so much fun tonight. I’m going to grill. You and Nancy bring the drinks.”
“I can’t wait,” she says.
“Girl time!” I holler back as I’m walking down the sidewalk to head back to the pool to start setting up everything for tonight.
This is much needed for all of us. And I get to show off my Korean barbecue skills and the all-time American hamburgers and dogs skills. I put brown sugar in my burgers and people seem to really like it. Plus I’ve never got to cook for them before, so it will be nice to show my appreciation. Maybe tonight I can stop thinking about Cole for five minutes. Or about how empty the ranch feels without him. Or about Abby showing up like a ghost from his past, reminding me exactly why I should keep my heart locked up tight.
God, that blonde—Abby—she’s so… tiny. Skinny in that effortless, model-like way, long legs, perfect hair, the kind of pretty that turns heads without trying. And Cole was with her for eleven years. Proposed to her. Built a whole guest house for her.
My stomach twists hard as I walk back down the path. I’d love to pop an egg right on her head—smash one of those perfect farm-fresh ones right into that flawless blonde hair and watch it drip down her pretty face.
Petty? Absolutely. But she hurt him. Left him broken, ring on the nightstand, and now she waltzes back for eggs like nothing happened? Like she didn’t shatter the man who’s been slowly putting me back together without even realizing it?
And then there’s me—fat, soft in all the places she’s sharp, hips and thighs and breasts that fill out every swimsuit and make me feel sexy until moments like this when the comparison hits. I’m bigger. Always have been. Thicker thighs, fuller ass, the kindof body that doesn’t fit in tiny bikinis or look delicate next to someone like her.
Does Cole prefer that? The skinny, city-girl perfection he almost married? Or does he like this—me, softer, more… real? The way he grabs my hips like he can’t get enough, growls about my curves driving him wild… but what if that’s just talk? What if deep down he misses the easy, delicate thing he lost?
Stop it, Layla. You’re spiraling. She’s the past. I shake my head, force a breath. Tonight’s for girls. For laughing. For margaritas and music and pretending my heart isn’t doing somersaults every time I think about him. I’ll grill, I’ll dance, I’ll get tipsy enough to forget Abby’s perfect face for a few hours. Hopefully.
Everything is finally set up—the music’s playing low and sultry through the Bluetooth speaker, a little R&B mix I threw together, perfect for winding down, the pool floats are all inflated and bobbing lazily in the water like colorful islands, string lights twinkling overhead now that the sun’s dipped low. The bulgogi is almost done on the grill—marinated steak sizzling, that sweet-savory soy-garlic-sesame smell drifting everywhere, making my mouth water. Burgers and hot dogs are finished too, stacked on a platter with buns toasted just right, brown sugar mixed into the patties like Ashley taught me.
I’m proud, everything looks great, cozy and inviting under the lights. I can’t wait to show Maggie and Nancy just how much I appreciate them. They’ve welcomed me like I’ve alwaysbeen here, and tonight feels like the perfect way to say thank you without saying it outright.
“Oooh, something smells good,” Maggie says as she walks down the path to the pool, barefoot and already grinning.
“This looks fantastic,” Nancy says right behind her, voice warm.
Nancy looks so proper, huge sundress fluttering in the breeze, wide-brimmed hat shading her face, light cover-up tied at the waist like she’s ready for a garden party. Fancy, elegant, effortless.
Maggie, though… Maggie is country through and through. Cut-off denim shorts, tank top knotted at the side, hair in a messy ponytail, vape already in her mouth like it’s an accessory. I love them both for it.
“It’s ready, girls! You got the tequila?” I ask, wiping my hands on a towel.
Maggie holds up the bottle like a trophy as she walks through the gate, taking a quick pull from her vape and blowing a cloud that catches the light. “Right here, Layla Lou.”
I smile—big, real. “Come grab a plate!”
We all sit down at the cute little red picnic table next to the pool, perfect size, umbrella overhead, plates piled high. I sit on one side. Maggie and Nancy on the other. We’ve got our margaritas, salty rims, extra lime, ice clinking and we’re sipping, chatting about girl stuff; bad dates we’ve survived, favorite movies that make us cry, the ridiculous things men say in bed.
“How’s it going with Lanie?” I ask Maggie, popping a piece of bulgogi in my mouth.
“Seems to be going really good,” she says, smiling big. “She’s pretty awesome. Loves the pool. I think she might even come by tomorrow for a swim.”
“Wow, what is this stuff?” Nancy points to the bulgogi, fork hovering.
I laugh loud, delighted. “It’s steak with a soy-based sauce but sweet. Korean style.” I smile at her. “It’s safe to eat, Nancy.”
She takes a cautious bite, chews slow, then nods. “Bulgogi.” Another bite. “It’s pretty damn good.”
“You’re Korean?” Nancy asks gently.
“My dad was, I’m assuming,” I say, keeping my voice light. “I was an orphan, but I saw pictures of my mother—she looked like a regular white girl. So yeah, I’m assuming my dad was. I did a DNA test a long time ago to try and find a long-lost family… turns out I don’t have any. Or at least not any that have done a DNA test.”
Maggie reaches across the table, squeezes my hand quick. “You have us now.”
