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I want more. I want to be the star of my life, not the third wheel.
Worse, she knew Micky. Her friend would feel responsible for her and try to include her in everything, but the fact was simple: there wasn’t room for Della in Micky’s new life.
No, Della had scrubbed toilets for a reason. To sock away her paychecks and jumpstart her life. “I promise I’ll be back when the baby comes. No matter what.” The shuttle headed for the offramp toward a gas station. “I’ve got to go. We don’t get a lot of stops, so I have to run in and use the bathroom—”
“And get a Frappuccino. I know.” Micky sighed. “I love you, and I miss you, and…God, Dell. We’ve never been apart. I don’t want to do this without you.”
“If only Rhys’s brother hadn’t been married…”
“Oh, my God, I would’ve loved that. Then, we’d be sisters for real.”
Della lowered her head. This is killing me. They’d always loved each other more than sisters because they’d chosen each other. Every day for twenty-one years. “You’re going to make me cry. Hang up, you wanker.”
“No, you hang up.”
Della laughed. “Don’t you have a crib to buy? Curtains to hang? Go.”
Micky made a kissing sound, and Della smacked her right back. Then, she disconnected and got up. As she filed off the shuttle, she noticed a big, fancy bus parked outside the convenience store. Tinted windows, black, glossy panels…It’s a tour bus.
Wouldn’t it be hilarious if it were Van Claybourne’s? He was on tour. But of course, he’d never be in some random gas station on the outskirts of Idaho Falls.
Besides, at his level, he probably traveled on a private jet.
As she walked past it, she heard someone inside hiss, “Shit.”
Blocking the sun with a hand, she peered into the open door. A rail thin man in jeans and a black T-shirt was muttering as he tried to unroll duct tape from the driver’s seat. “Your rearview mirror broke?”
He gave her a side-eye expression that said, No shit, Sherlock.
“That won’t work. The mounting bracket’s too short. Here.” As she climbed onto the bus, she reached into her bag and pulled out Gorilla Glue.
He swiped the perspiration off his forehead. “You carry that around?”
Della grinned. “A woman’s purse, am I right?” Because of the way she looked—her blonde hair, big boobs, and movie-star red lipstick—a lot of people underestimated her.
That’s okay. It gave her the advantage.
He took the bottle from her. “Thanks.”
When it looked like he was going to glue the bracket to the same spot, she reached for it.
“Hang on. Let’s get the old glue off first. Do you have a tool kit?”
“Yeah, sure. But it’s just got a screwdriver and a hammer in it. What’re you looking for?”
“A razor.”
“No, I definitely don’t have anything like that.”
“No problem. Let me just grab my suitcase.” She didn’t have much time, but she’d give it a shot. “Be right back.”
“You got a razor in your suitcase?” he called after her.
She could hear him chuckling as she climbed back onto the shuttle and hauled her luggage off the rack above her seat. The driver wasn’t around, so she couldn’t ask him to wait. But he’d do a head count, she was sure. He wouldn’t just leave without a passenger. It was a resort shuttle.
Back at the bus, she dug out her rhinestone-covered kit. Then, she climbed the steps with her razor.
“Why do you travel with a box cutter?”
