Yes.
Can I handle that right now?
No. No, I cannot. Because I feel like an idiot. Like a failure at having fun. LikeI’mthe trouble. Like I’m high-maintenance.
Whereas he was nothing but sweet and kind and gentle in ways I didn’t expect and can’t help craving. “No stories until we’re drinking right.”
I plop three iridescent insulated wine tumblers onto the table and wait.
And the reaction is worth it.
“You didn’t!” Emma squeals, which honestly hurts my head a little, but I don’t care.
Sabrina bursts out laughing. “Oh my god,you did.”
“Seemed appropriate,” I say with a grin.
Emma picks up the nearest insulated wine tumbler and lifts it into the sunlight to examine the logo more clearly. “Remember ourUgly Heiress Societyclubhouse?”
Not long after Theo dubbed us theugly heiresses of the Tooth—Sabrina as an heiress to Bean & Nugget, me to Kingston Photo Gifts, and Emma to Rocky Roadkill—Sabrina found an old treehouse on her grandparents’ property within walking distance from the school. The three of us decided we’d own the crap out of the nickname, make ourselves a fancy club with our rickety new clubhouse, and we’d go there all the time after the bell rang and before we had to get home.
I nod. “We were so lucky that thing didn’t fall apart.”
“Hey, we don’t do rickety treehouses in my family unless we know they’re sturdy,” Sabrina says.
“Is it still there?” Emma asks.
Sabrina shakes her head. “Aunt Lisa had it torn down after Grandma couldn’t make it out to the yard to see if it was still there anymore.”
Emma wrinkles her nose, but she doesn’t say a bad word about her future mother-in-law. “I guess that was probably the safe choice.”
Sabrina grabs her mug and inspects the inscription too. “I can’t believe you remembered and did this.”
“I can,” Emma says softly.
My cheeks get hot. Also, here I go again, fixating on the one man I am absolutely positive has been cured of whatever crush he might’ve ever had on me. “In retrospect, I shouldn’t have taken it so personally when Theo called us that. There’s a solid chance one of us—probably me—upset him and he was lashing back, and just based on everything I remember from childhood, it most likely came right on the heels of my mother telling me I needed to learn to dress because my face would never be what found me the right man.”
“Oh, honey,” Emma whispers.
I wave a hand. “I know she meant well. Like, tempering my expectations, you know?”
“Except you’re gorgeous,” Sabrina says.
“Not next to you two.”
“Are you serious right now?” Emma points to her arm. “Do youseethe freckles? And that’swithseven thousand gallons of SPF 100 applied hourly. And let’s not talk about how I look like a walking stick with a pointy nose and a pointy chin andelf ears. I looksick. No matter how much I eat.”
“Youare also gorgeous,” Sabrina tells her.
“You have to say that because I’m the bride.”
“I choose to say that because I’m your friend who sees all of your beauty. And also who knows you eat all the good things, see your doctor regularly, that your metabolism isn’t your fault, and that your face is utterly charming and captivating and yourockit.”
“And you’re easily the most beautiful of the three of us on the inside,” I chime in.
“Agreed. I’m a total bitch on the inside.” Sabrina grins.
“Me too,” I say.
