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“Don’t even think about suggesting it.” Lucy points at her best friend and scowls. “He wouldn’t come back anyway. He made his choice.”
“I wouldn’t be asking him to come back permanently,” Marilee says. “Just for the wedding.”
“That’s a long way to come.” Folding her arms across her chest, Lucy fixes Marilee with a stare.
I’m really and truly lost. “Who are we talking about?”
Marilee flinches at the very un-Lucy-like glare on Lucy’s face and moves her attention to me. “My brother, Blake.”
“Or Flake, as we like to call him.”
“Youlike to call him,” Elisse says. She turns to me and mouths quite obviously,She’s obsessed with him.
Now Lucy’s pools of rage that used to be eyes are directed at the sofa. “You take that back, Elisse Loveland.”
“What? It’s true. We all know you had a major crush on him in high school.”
“I most certainly didnot.” Lucy throws her hands into the air, apparently forgetting her wine glass. Wine splashes all over the fire pit, sending a wave of hissing flames into the air. “Why would I like a jerk like him?” Yikes. I’ve never seen Lucy so worked up. Didn’t even know it was possible, but apparently her best friend’s brother can bring it out in her.
Marilee sinks down into her seat, but then turns away from Lucy back toward me. “Anyway, he has a food truck down in Los Angeles. I can see if he’s free if you’re interested.”
“Oh, that would be great. Thanks so much.”
“Of course. I’m just so impressed that you have gotten as much done as you have in such a short time.”
“What can I say? I’m good at planning parties.” I finally take a bite of the cookie in my hand. Ooo. It’s divine. The creamy white chocolate is satisfying, but leaves me wanting more.
“Maybe you should take over for Rhonda then,” Elisse says as she snatches up another bottle of wine sitting on the edge of the fire pit.
“What do you mean, take over for Rhonda?” Marilee’s eyebrows go up.
“Yeah, what are you talking about?” Lucy demands.
Elisse stops working the cork. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t hear?” A quiet pause brings the cicadas calling, answering her question. “Rhonda and Huck eloped. She’s putting the shop up for sale and moving to L.A. with him.”
“What?” The women break out into chaos, asking questions over each other, Elisse attempting to answer them.
“I don’t know much more than that.” The breeze ruffles the edges of her long hair as she holds up her hands. “Only that she asked if I wanted to buy it and I said no way.”
“I thought you loved working there.” Marilee fidgets with her glasses.
“Eh, it was fine, but I quickly got tired of brides complaining about the most trivial things when there are real problems happening in the world.” She turns to me. “But you would be perfect. People like you, and you’ve clearly got a brain for planning. Want to move to America and leave your job—” Then Elisse squints at me. “Wait, what is it you do now? And where do you live?” A pause. “Why don’t I know much about you yet?”
The cookie sours in my stomach.
Marilee laughs. “That’s so funny. I don’t know hardly anything about you either, Chloe, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. How is that possible?”
I chuckle, praying they can’t hear the pounding of my heart. “Guess I don’t like talking about myself. I’m more interested in you all.” And I’m realizing something—I’m a terrible liar. Because I’m about to spill all the tea right now with nary a nudge of my teacup.
The thing is, it’s been easy in many ways to fake it with Frederick, because I have real feelings for him. And I’ve been able to be vague enough so far about the wedding and who we are. But if these ladies persist in asking me specific questions, and I have to make something up … ugh. No. I can’t do it.
I won’t.
The good thing is, I trust them—every single one, even Elisse, who likely rubs some people the wrong way.
Oh boy. This is going to require some stamina, so I down the rest of my wine and polish off Marilee’s delicious cookie. Then I open my mouth to tell everyone the truth and—
Headlights swing around the bend, coming toward our grouping of vehicles beside the house. We all turn our heads around to see who’s headed down the unpaved road. Gravel pops beneath the tires of a hot pink Volkswagen Bug.
