Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Sweetheart,” he says. “You’ve barely responded to any texts. This is a welfare check.”
“Feels like an intervention.”
Mabel gives a guilty-as-charged smile. “If you call friendship an intervention, then yes. Yes, it is.”
I wave to the back porch. “I’m not going to sit out there though. Ford might see me, and that is not happening. I almost ran into him yesterday. Also, Simon’s too little to be in the backyard by himself.”
“Let me just take them outside real quick, and then we’ll let them sit on the back porch and sunbathe.”
I sigh but relent, because that is a really good idea. There’s little a dog likes more than a sunbath. As Trevyn heads outside—protecting me from the possibility of running into Ford—I turn to Mabel. “I guess my brother was right. It really is messy to get involved with your neighbor. You can’t even leave your home. I mean, imagine what it’s going to be like when I’m literally living inside here for the rest of my life.”
Mabel gives me a sympathetic look. “You have really entered the dramatic phase, haven’t you?”
“Yes, and I’m still in the bathrobe phase, so you can see why this is a problem.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re always in your bathrobe phase,” she says, then heads to the kitchen table and pulls out a chair, patting it for me. “I think I know what you need.”
I slump down in the offered seat. “What do I need? And don’t say the podcast—I don’t know if I have the energy to do that.”
Even though it usually energizes me—talking about design hacks.
As Trevyn comes back inside, Mabel announces, “We need to redecorate.”
I go still, then slowly—like I’m transfixed—I bring a hand to my heart. “Don’t tempt me with something so beautiful,” I whisper.
“Something simple. A little forgotten corner of your brother’s place—maybe the mudroom. We can spruce it up with a mirror. Like a vintage mirror.”
I gasp. “You’re a witch, teasing me with a vintage mirror.”
“We know you love them,” says Trevyn, getting into the goading.
“I do. Like Emma Thompson loves Joni Mitchell in Love Actually.”
“Ain’t no love like that,” Mabel says.
Trevyn moves behind me and squeezes my shoulders, whispering seductively, “We could even hang a reclaimed chandelier somewhere in the house.”
I clasp my hand over my mouth, then whisper reverently through my fingers. “Healing begins with lighting. And a good mirror.”
Mabel reaches for my hand, her big eyes full of kindness as she says, “And a shower.”
Five hours later, Simon and Barbara-dor are playing tug-of-war with a stuffed alligator, and I’m wiping clean with a rag a gorgeous secondhand Turkish handcrafted tiled decorative mirror from Reflective Showroom that Amika set aside for me when I called her earlier. Post-shower, of course.
I stand back to admire it, Mabel by my side. “It makes the mudroom look bigger,” I say, smiling with pride. “Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Mirrors always make rooms look bigger.”
“It looks seriously good,” Mabel says approvingly.
“So good I’m taking a picture, and you’re adding it to your socials,” Leighton instructs, since Mabel enlisted her to join us. “We can’t let your marketing suffer just because you’re deep in your feels.”
My heart squeezes for them. I love the way they’re thinking of me even when I can’t think of anything but how much I’m still hurting over missing that jackass. But with them, I don’t feel second best.
“I love you all. So much,” I say, as Trevyn adjusts the newly acquired French chandelier behind us, then climbs down the steps of the ladder.
“Ta-da,” he says, gesturing to the antique that looks like it belongs in a French farmhouse. It was missing a few teardrops, but I fixed it quickly. This girl is handy.
“I love it too,” I say, and I’m way up in my feels now, because I stare at my friends, gathering them all close, “but not as much as I love all of you.”
They come in for a hug, and it feels like maybe I’m starting to outrun the hurt. Since they’re reminding me that I can be first…for me.
34
THE DOUBLE AMBUSH
FORD
I love doing yoga in the living room instead of the porch.
Said no one ever.
But like I could go out there now. I don’t need the temptation of seeing Skylar. Or the fucking embarrassment of her seeing me like this.
In a goddamn child’s pose.
Since it’s practically the only yoga pose I can do right now with my broken, pathetic, flimsy-ass ribs.
Fine, they’re not broken. But…feels like they are.
I stretch out my arms in front of me on the yellow mat in the living room while Zamboni circles me, nudges my hair, then slides next to me, slinking into a proper downward dog with utter ease. “Are you trying to make me jealous? Because it’s working.”
She wags her tail, still happy to see me, even though I’m not sure I deserve nice things.