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“Why are you doing this?” she cried.
“This is what happens when you’re splashed over the internet because the world is speculating on the status of your relationship and you don’t text your friends back when they’re trying to make sure you’re okay,” Penny replied.
These nutjob women.
She set her tote on the floor and scrubbed her hands down her face. “I’m okay. You guys don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself. You know that.”
“We know, H,” Libby answered.
“We also know when you need us,” Charlotte added.
She hated to admit it, but Char was right. The girls always knew.
As much as she wanted to throttle her friends, it was good to see them.
Raz raised his hand. “Is the ball sac rule still in place?”
“No, Raz, I rescind the ball sac rule. Do you have something to say?”
“I’m not trying to piss you off, Harper, but I can see why your friends are worried,” the man remarked. “You look like a right old state.”
She reared back. “A right old what?”
“What he means is you appear slightly disheveled,” Libby translated.
She stared down the boxer. “You think I’m disheveled, Raz?”
“Something like that…but worse.” He sniffed the air. “And you smell like the donkeys.”
Screw this!
Yes, it was good to see her friends, but she had a hell of a lot of wallowing and bonbon binging to get to.
“I don’t know what this is,” she began, gesturing to the petite ninja trio, “but it’s not necessary. What is necessary is that I walk out of here with three dozen bonbons.”
“You said two dozen when you came in,” the man behind the counter called.
Men! She should have left the ball sac rule in place.
She threw the guy a slice of top-notch side-eye. “Well, now I’m a little pissed off and require more.”
“H, close your eyes and press your hands into a prayer position,” Libby coaxed.
It was like living in the twilight zone.
“Libby, I’m not meditating.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you meditate. With your hands in the prayer position, it would lessen the smell coming from your armpits.”
“Libbs,” she groaned.
“H, we’re worried about you,” Charlotte said, taking a step toward her as one would approach a wounded wild boar. “We saw the pictures of you from the Italian airport.”
The last thing she wanted to talk about was Italy.
She waved off her friend. “That was nothing,” she lied.
“It can’t be nothing, Harper,” Raz replied. “Landon won’t answer our calls or texts either. Rowen worked his computer nerd magic and tracked him to his house in Crystal Hills, but he won’t answer the bloody door.”
