“We need to have another oral reading around the bonfire,” Tessa said, reaching for the purple suede notebook she remembered Vivien scratching in late at night in the room all the girls shared. She smoothed her hand over the material, transported to a time when life was so easy and free and fun. “Fifteen, huh? What was happening that year?”
“The bathroom sitch.”
Tessa snorted. “I know. I hogged.” She flipped to a random page and saw the name “Peter” with a heart, then looked up at Vivien. “I see you still had your crush.”
Vivien groaned. “I can’t read them anymore. I miss him.”
“He’s coming back,” Tessa reminded her. “Moving to Destin and taking a job with the PD. And not just for you, remember? Although, I’m sure his hope is eternal.”
“He won’t be here for a while,” Vivien said on a sad sigh. “He has to sell his house and find something else, and close up a bunch of cases in Pensacola. He could change his mind, you know. And it would be my fault for breaking up with him.”
“Are you sorry for that decision?” Tessa asked. “’Cause I’m pretty sure he’d take you back in a heartbeat.”
“I’m…still wondering. Enough that I can’t read those diaries.”
“I’ll read one,” Tessa said, turning to the first page and skimming the words. “‘Tessa, though. TESSA.’” She looked up. “All caps? Really?”
“Read the next sentence.”
She did. “‘I love that girl to death, but she thinks every shower is full-blown beauty pageant prep that takes forty-five minutes.’”
Tessa stared at the words, feeling a sharp pang of guilt hit, and not for the bathroom hogging from the past. She closed the cover with a thud.
“Not much has changed,” she said glumly.
Vivien frowned. “What do you mean?”
Looking up, she sighed and decided to share some of what had been on her heart. “I’ve been freeloading here for almost four months, Viv.”
“Freeloading?” Vivien blinked. “Tessa! Don’t say that. First of all, we all have our own bathrooms now.”
She thumbed toward the ensuite. “You don’t.”
“I don’t need a bathroom to myself,” she insisted. “You belong here, Tessa Wylie. As much as anyone.”
But the truth was…shedidn’tbelong here. She didn’tbelonganywhere.
Tessa gave her a small smile but couldn’t help the tightening in her chest. “Technically, this is your house. Yours and Eli’s.And Crista’s. I’m just…the add-on who never left. The squatter, remember?”
Vivien narrowed her eyes and pointed at her. “Don’t do that. Don’t minimize what you are to this family. You’re not an add-on. You’re a Wylie, and this house wouldn’t be the same without you. Your very DNA is in this property.”
Tessa nodded but said nothing, appreciating the sentiment. But these thoughts were definitely part of the feelings that had been nagging her.
As much as she loved this house—and she did, deeply—she was forty-nine years old and still sleeping in the guest room of a home owned by someone else. It was starting to feel like a comfortable pair of jeans that didn’t quite fit right anymore.
Maybe that was the difference with having her secret out in the open. She didn’t feel like she had to run all the time.
“Anyway,” Vivien pointed at the diary, “if you’re dying to dig through those, be my guest. I need a break from reliving my teenage obsession with Peter McCarthy.”
Tessa grinned. “Are you sure? You might miss these painfully detailed entries about his jawline.”
“Oh, I’ve memorized those,” Vivien said dryly, rolling off the bed. “I’m going to transfer my new obsession to Atlas. I have a full workday tomorrow and want to get my Auntie Viv time in.”
“You’re done with Danny’s house,” Tessa said, thinking of Vivien’s last rather complicated design client. “Who’s your new client?”
“A couple who wants to remodel their guest house, I have more work for Fiona, and I do have to finish this place in case we sell in November.”
“You guys haven’t decided that yet?” Tessa asked, knowing that was her hard deadline. If the Lawsons sold, she had to leave. If they didn’t sell…well, she couldn’t sponge off their hospitalityforever.
