My head snaps back. “So according to you, because I don’t want her to settle, I’m suddenly a bitter old spinster who’s trying to ruin my sister’s life?”
Shrugging, Kandi says, “If the orthopedic shoe fits…”
“Okay, I can’t,” I say, throwing up my hands. “Sorry, Amber. I tried. I’m going back to the villa. Maybe things will work out better tomorrow.”
“I think you should go home.” Amber says quietly, dabbing at the skin under her eyes.
My shoulders drop, and I stare at her for a second, not sure if I should be hurt or angry or what. “Really?”
Nodding, she looks me in the eye. “Really. I tried to include you, but you just don’t want to be part of my special time.” She shakes her head. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have forced it.”
Kandi puts a protective arm around Amber. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
Quinn rubs Amber’s upper arm and simultaneously scowls at me. “Yeah, Ambs, this issonot your fault.”
“This is supposed to be a happy occasion,” Valerie sniffs, trying to make herself cry so she can win the Most Sensitive Friend Award at the end of the weekend.
“Come on, sweetie,” Kandi says, moving Amber away from me. “Let’s go find a place that serves all-night breakfast. We’ll get you some pancakes.”
“That’s what you need right now,” Valerie says, scrambling to take the other side of Amber. “Your posse and some pancakes.”
“Okay, well, I guess I’ll find a flight home, then,” I say quietly.
Amber turns over her shoulder and nods. “That would be for the best.”
“Oh, and make sure you leave the money you owe me for the T-shirt,” Quinn says. “It’s $31.50.”
CHAPTER 19
The Otis Redding of Bellboys
Leo
It’s late Saturday morning, and I have to say, for once in my life, I’m bored out of my mind. Like, completely and utterly bored. I made lunch plans for tomorrow with Pierce and Emma because I thought it would take me all day to finish my domestic chores, but it turns out I got through them much faster than anticipated. I’ve already gotten through my shopping, laundry, and sweeping out my little house. I even stripped the bed and washed the sheets, which are now providing the only movement in the yard as they flap in the gentle breeze on the line. I find myself wishing a certain little preschooler was here cycling around in a cape.
The sound of the bass guitar next door causes me to perk up my ears and reminds me of Jerry Not Garcia’s offer to go “jam” with him. I don’t play any instruments but perhaps he’s got a set of bongos or a triangle I could try. Any idiot can play the triangle, right?
Getting up from my lawn chair, I stretch, feeling an odd pang of loneliness that I doubt Jerry can cure. Only twenty-eight hours until Bree and Izzy are home, not that I’m counting or anything…
A car pulls up onto the driveway as I reach the gate. It’s Brianna’s little Corolla, which sparks joy for me like that Marie Kondo woman seeing an organized sock drawer. I open the gate and walk out to greet her. She’s sitting perfectly still in the driver’s seat, the expression on her face indicating something is most certainly wrong. She closes her eyes and leans her head against the back of her seat.
I stop short and consider sneaking away before she opens her eyes. Would she even want me to see her so upset? I should walk away. Oh, bollocks… She’s crying now, and her face is all twisted up. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t at least try to help? The kind my father thinks I am.
Walking over to the driver’s side, I tap on the window with one knuckle, startling her. She quickly wipes her tears away before opening the door.
“Hey, Leo, what do you need?” she asks, doing her best to sound like Concierge Brianna. She plucks her handbag off the passenger seat and tries to get up, except she’s forgotten to unbuckle her seatbelt, so her attempt is thwarted. It snaps tight, and she’s jarred back into place. “Of course,” she mutters, unbuckling the seatbelt.
“Want to talk about it?” I ask.
She shakes her head as she stands. “Thanks, but I think I need to have a long bath and lie down for a while.”
“All right, well, I’m here if you need a friend.”
“Great,” she says, shutting the door to her car and walking to the trunk to open it.
I follow her and take her suitcase before she can get to it. “Better let me do this. I am a professional, after all.”
That earns me the tiniest flicker of a smile, sparking a need to get a really big one out of her—a laugh, too. I spot a small blue teddy bear poking out of her purse. “Cute bear. Izzy will love that.”
