Page 53 of Book Club Confidential

Tessa clenched her jaw, and she scrolled away, telling herself she’d correct the woman in person at the wedding instead—assuming the wedding happened.

A post from Hallie’s account, What-The-Hallie, came up, and Tessa paused to watch the short video. Not of Hallie and Bryce, but of Eloise dancing around Roll with It after hours. The dining area was empty. The streets were dark outside the windows. “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell played in the background while she sang into the handle of a broom. Hallie flung a pile of napkins in her direction as if it was cash.

They really are cute together, Tessa thought. And they gave off the same carefree, youthful energy. The differences between this video and the photo of Hallie with her fiancé were night and day. Hopefully she chose joy when it came time to talk with Bryce about her feelings.

Listen to your gut, Hallie, she thought.

Tessa forced herself out of the deck chair and back inside to open her laptop. She wanted to finish the digital vision board for Grant’s new office space.

She smiled when she thought of him, then pushed her lips back into neutral. He was a client. Whatever hope she had of something more with Grant would have to wait patiently until after his new campaign launched.

When he texted her to thank her for meeting with him last night, she responded professionally—even as she felt his lips lightly on her cheek once more.

People give cheek kisses casually, she told herself. It was perfectly platonic.

She pulled her current novel from the coffee table, swiveled to put her feet up, and read until the heroine began looking a lot like Tessa in her mind, and the tenderhearted bodyguard sent to assist her in her quest looked just like Grant.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Kate, bringing her back to reality.

Kate: Dress shopping? The Influencers’ Ball hasn’t rescinded my invite yet

Tessa grinned. A day with the girls? Yes, please.

Hallie: Sure. Pick me up

Tessa: When and where?

Tessa changed into her softest jeans, comfiest cashmere V-neck, and favorite sneakers, then headed downtown to meet Hallie and Kate. The popular bridal shop Kate suggested had generations of history in Harbor Heights and stunning river views. She arrived early, grabbed a bench in the shade, and hooked one arm over the backrest. The rushing water below teemed with brightly colored kayaks.

Her friends arrived several minutes later in Kate’s Prius. Kate wore a pale-yellow maxi dress with a red belt and flats. Large red-framed sunglasses shielded her eyes from the bright morning light. Long blond hair hung in waves over her shoulders. Hallie sported ripped jeans, a cropped hoodie, and high-top Chuck Taylor sneakers. She’d pinched her short pin-straight hair into tiny ponytails at the nape of her neck, which always made Tessa smile.

“How long were you waiting?” Kate asked, hurrying to meet her at the bench.

“Not long,” Tessa said. “It’s a beautiful day, and I’m trying to be present in the moments rather than think obsessively about work.”

Hallie grinned. “How’s that going?”

“Not great,” Tessa said brightly. “I worked a little this morning, but only on the things I wanted, and I made time to read afterward.”

“Good,” Kate said. “That’s progress.”

“And in time, with effort,” Tessa added, “the internet promises I can regulate my nervous system and escape my perpetual state of fight or flight. I’ve been reading a lot about workaholics and burnout. I think I needed this intervention more than I realized.”

She’d also accepted that it was possible she’d been stuck in a form of slow, simmering panic since her stepmom died. If so, it was long past time to stop and breathe. Also time to reach out to her old therapist. She’d like to unpack and parse the new things she’d learned about herself so she could continue to heal and grow.

“Your value is not determined by your productivity,” Kate said.

“Exactly,” Tessa agreed. “I hope to eventually convince myself that is true.”

Kate wrinkled her nose. “If you succeed, tell me how.”

Hallie scanned the building before them. “My late-night research has been heavy on the you-are-not-your-mother blogs.”

“You aren’t,” Kate assured.

“Not if I marry well and enjoy a cushy life.”

“That’s not true,” Tessa said. “You are Hallie Anne Marie Montgomery. A cook. A dirty soda enthusiast. Incredible friend, daughter, coworker, and human.”