“I don’t know what’s going on here, exactly, but I know that’s not a picture you want to send to anyone to prove you’re in a solid relationship,” Aspen says. “Talk about posed and unnatural. You two aresonot selling this engaged thing.”
Never mind.
Aspen’s not in the circle of trust anymore.
I glare at her.
“No, no, she’s right,” Cash says. “We don’t need details, but we can definitely help you take a better picture. Sloane. Give me your phone.”
“I—” she starts, then throws her hands up in the air. “Fine. Here. Have my phone.”
It dings as she’s handing it over to him, and I’m not fast enough to grab it before he looks at it.
I haven’t even seen what the dickwad is sending her, but Cash’s face says everything.
Whatever she just got, it wasn’t a nice message.
“Who’s Nigel?” my buddy says.
Her gaze shifts to the dead fire pit. “Old friend.”
“That’s not a message any old friend of mine would ever send.”
“Leave her alone,” I growl.
“‘Don’t be stupid this time?’” Cash says. “‘You know we’re inevitable. Tell me where you are so we can quit with the fucking games and go home.’”
Her phone dings again.
Aspen gasps as she peeks at it. “Oh, that’s low,” she whispers.
“‘Do you want your grandmother to die knowing that you’re sad and lonely and unfulfilled in your life? Or worse, that you abandoned all of your principles for cheap sex with a sheep-fucker? Do you really want to do that to her?’” Cash reads.
Sloane’s cheeks have gone bright red.
“I’ll make three phone calls and move the wedding to tomorrow,” I tell Sloane.
Aspen chokes.
Cash drops the phone, and it clatters to the ground.
Like they don’t know the whole story. I took ten minutes to read thefivehundred text messages that kept going after I went to bed last night, and I know they know everything.
Overdramatic assholes.
“If you want to give him a massive middle finger and let someone fight in your corner for you on this one,” I add. “Not telling you what to do. I’m offering.”
She lifts her head and looks at me. “It’s not in Shipwreck, is it?” she murmurs.
She’s deflecting by asking about the treasure.
Can’t blame her.
But the question still catches me off guard, and it’s a struggle to both keep a straight face and also level with her. Which I owe her. “Never was.”
“Why is that important enough that Annika’s family doesn’t want her to know?”
And one more question I don’t want to answer.
