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In the sunroom, her family ate merrily at the table, and she sat down with them. They talked, and Gina listened while she ate. Back in the kitchen, with the mountain of work in front of her, Gina could acknowledge that yes, she very much needed help.
* * *
The Texas late-summerheat assaulted Gina as she left the kitchen, her grab-and-go lunchbox in her hand. The picnic table wasn’t empty, and while she’d go sit by Starla, she really wanted to be headed to Blake’s.
They hadn’t talked about lunch specifically, because they weren’t talking right now. The day after he’d brought dinner to her parents’ house, he’d texted her to say he had a meeting in town during lunch, and that had been the end of their lunchtimes together.
Only a few days had passed, but they felt like a lifetime to Gina. She could construct anything out of cake and frosting, but she didn’t know how to build a bridge back to Blake.
She walked past the barns and across the gravel to Starla, sighing as she sat next to her on top of the table.
“Hey,” Starla said, her voice far too nasally to be allergies. Starla didn’t have those anyway. “You’re here again.”
“Yep.” Gina opened her box to the croissant sandwich, potato salad, mint brownie she’d made herself that morning, and bag of veggies and ranch.
“Still not talking to Blake?”
“Who said I wasn’t talking to Blake?”
Starla gave Gina a pointed look, her eyelashes clearly wet as she hadn’t wiped her eyes yet. “Please,” she said. “Everyone knows.” She lifted her croissant to her mouth and took a bite.
“Well, that doesn’t make me feel better about it,” Gina said sourly. She stared at the bald cypress, the memories on the other side of it like poison in an already-open wound. She didn’t feel like eating, and her lunchbox sat on her lap, open but untouched.
“Join the club,” Starla said. She took another bite of her sandwich, sniffling as she did.
Gina set aside her own relationship problems and linked her arm through Starla’s. “I thought Jesse was coming over last night.”
“He did.”
“And?” She was still crying, so it couldn’t have gone well.
“And I don’t know,” Starla said in a whisper. She leaned her head against Gina’s shoulder, and it just became the two of them there on that picnic table. “Things are very complicated between us right now.”
“I’m sorry,” Gina said. “What can I do? I can talk to Nash. He’s still talking to me right now. I’ll tell him to get over himself, that he’s worked with you for five years, and if he was interested, he should’ve said somethingbeforeJesse asked you out.”
Starla gave a tiny shake of her head against Gina’s arm. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything to him. It’ll only make things worse.”
Gina watched the wispy clouds move through the distant sky. She wished she didn’t feel the same way, like life just pushed her around and she went with it. She’d hated that growing up, and she’d left Chestnut Springs to make her own way in the world. She’d wanted a life she had created, and she had it.
“Look at it this way,” Gina said. “You’ve got two of the hottest cowboys in love with you.”
Starla giggled and sat up straight. “That’s not true.”
“I think Jesse’s good looks must’ve blinded you then. The man is seriously hot.”
Starla met her eyes, a hint of her former happiness there. “I didn’t mean to make a mess of things. I thought Nash was dating Ashley, and I just wanted to play cornhole with someone.”
“I know, sweetie.” Gina wiped her fingers across Starla’s forehead. “You’ve got flour up here.”
“I’m always draped in some food product,” she said, wiping her face too. “It’s a miracle all the dogs around here don’t attack me twenty-four-seven.”
They giggled together, and Gina sighed again. “I need to talk to Blake.”
“Are you two playing cornhole in the morning? I think you could beat Adam and Lowry.”
Gina shook her head. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.” She looked at Starla. “Are you playing with Jesse?”
Before she could answer, someone cleared their throat. Both Gina and Starla whipped around, and Starla scrambled to the ground. Jesse stood on the other side of the table, both hands gripping opposite sides of the brim of his cowboy hat.
