“You guys were together?” I ask Oliver. “Why?”
Oliver’s chagrined look to Mercer tells me everything I need to know, but don’t want to know. “We’ve been hanging out.” There’s a phrase I’ve never heard Oliver use. “We came here to grab some things. Things escalated. We got—”
“Busy,” Mercer cuts in.
“I was going to say distracted,” Oliver corrects her with an awkward smile.
Disgusting.
Sunny is cringing. “Mercer!” she moans the name in the same tone a person would use if they found a toenail clipping in their pasta.
Oliver finishes the story almost in one breath. “We were making out” — Sunny and I wince in unison, which would be comical in any other circumstance — “and I don’t know for sure, but the fire department seemed to think it started with the curtains. I’m guessing the dog knocked the candles into them.”
I’m not thinking about why there were lit candles.
But making out with a woman during a critical film shoot? Unattended candles? Major property damage? After the years of nagging, reminders, and unending check-ins from Oliver, this happens? I know this is no time for gloating, but I can’t stop myself.
“Well, well, well…” I goad my best friend, dragging out the words while I smirk at the odd pairing.
Mercer looks like she’s going to shank me in my sleep.
Meanwhile, Sunny has covered her face with her hands, like that will undo the fire, or erase the mental image of her best friend getting frisky with a cyborg. She pulls her hands away, crossing her arms with a look to me that I don’t recognize. She turns to Joe. “How bad is it? How far did it spread?”
Joe pauses before he answers, taking her in. “Why don’t we get you home so you can rest? There’s nothing else to do today. The insurance company is sending someone over in the morning. I’ll need you for that.” He turns to Oliver. “I’ll talk to Christopher when I know more. For now, we’re moving Anders and his daughter to a room on the opposite end of the property. Problem is, that area is less isolated and harder to secure. You’ll have to be a lot more careful coming and going.” His gusty sigh says more than his words. “We had so many people on the property today—first responders, the local news. I’m not sure who tipped them off…”
Them. The paparazzi. It doesn't matter who alerted the vultures and how they found us. It doesn’t change anything. Our lives and this film shoot just got infinitely more difficult. I feel the weight of my phone in my back pocket, knowing now that the calls I haven’t returned are likely bad news.
All of that can wait. Sunny and Imogen are my priority. Now she’s pacing the room, peppering her brother with questions about the extent of the damage. Oliver and Mercer fill in with their first-hand accounts that make me wonder if there’s some kind of memory-erasing hypnosis treatment available anywhere. Other than that, I’m relieved to hear that no one was injured. Nothing we left behind in the suite was irreplaceable. Everything will be fine.
When I say as much to the room—just thinking out loud—all eyes whip my direction.
“What?” I ask.
“What?” Sunny whispers, her eyes squinting like she must have misheard me.
“I think I said everything will be fine?” I honestly don’t remember. “I expected worse, but this isn’t so bad. Everything is replaceable, right?”
“No, you’re right. You’re absolutely right.” Sunny gives me a defeated look, then turns to her brother. “Can you take me home?”
He nods and he follows her out the door.
“Everything okay?” I say to their backs, turning back to Oliver and Mercer. “Did I say something wrong?” I ask the fire-starting perverts still standing in front of me.
Mercer makes a face at me. “Really?”
I’m tired and this snarky blonde person just ruined the day of the woman I love. As far as I can tell, we’re both on Sunny’s crap list. I don’t deserve her ire. “Yeah. What?”
Mercer shakes her head. “Her parents opened this place before she was born. She was raised here. It’s as much a part of her family as she is. On top of that, this resort is her pride and joy. She lives to make it perfect.” Now Mercer looks tired, or maybe a little guilty. “I know everything works out for you. You think nothing is a big deal. You have all of the money you need and a team of people who take care of you.” Shehasbeen hanging out with Oliver. “But this is a huge deal to her—to all of us. This isn’t just our livelihood. It’s our home. And yeah, maybe everything will be fine. This stuff is replaceable, and even if it’s not, it’s just stuff. But would it kill you to console her for five seconds before you brush it off?” She sucks in a breath. “Sorry,” she says half-heartedly at the end of her rant.
The truth of her words slices through me like a knife. I absolutely did do that. I mean, yeah—things do usually work out. I’m a big believer in manifesting, the power of positive thinking, optimism, whatever you want to call it. I still am. But seeing those attitudes from another angle—from the perspective of someone who needscompassion, someone to mourn with her—makes me realize optimism isn’t so simple and I’ve unwittingly hurt the woman I love. “You’re—”
“Right.” Oliver butts in. “She’s right. I know it’s hard to say the word.”
“Shut up.” I push back like I’m his twelve-year-old brother. “I can admit when I’ve screwed up.” I let the room fall silent while I think about how to make this right. I hate that I’ve hurt Sunny. I settle my gaze on Mercer. “How do I fix this?”
25. Sunny Versus a Tumbleweed
Joe’s white Bronco is waiting for us in the parking lot and the familiarity of it is comforting. It’s an older model that’s been in my family since it was new. My dad spent hours working on the thing with Joe when he was a teenager. I would bring jugs of ice water to the garage for them and find their legs sticking out from under the engine while they worked. This thing has a lot of my dad in it. If I close my eyes after I’ve buckled my seatbelt it almost feels like a hug. The engine roars to life and Joe turns in the direction of my condo.
