Anyway, George was watching. And my sisters. And our mom.
Trey smiled crookedly. “I should give George a hand. I’ll see you at the birthday party.”
CHAPTER 31
Beth
Patches stalked a trailing balloon ribbon across the porch. I tied it up out of the way before the kitten pounced and choked on it.
We were decorating for the twins’ birthday party at the farm. Red, yellow, and blue balloons floated from the mailbox and picnic tables. “No theme,” Meg had stated somewhat apologetically. “I just want everybody to have fun.”
But Amy, being Amy, had transformed leftover paint and moving boxes into a cardboard carnival. Pop-up playhouses identified the plastic pool turned fishing hole and the face painting station. Colorful signs pointed the way to the petting zoo at the baby goat enclosure, the scavenger hunt in the hay, and the boat rides down at the dock.
“Everything looks amazing,” I said.
Amy straightened, stretching her back. “Thanks for helping.”
“I’d rather be here than in the kitchen.”
She shot me a quick look. “Too much food?”
I smiled. “Too many people.” Mom, Meg, Eric, and Jo were all inthe house, prepping to feed the entire family and a dozen or so five-year-olds.
“This family.” Amy rolled her eyes. “All we do is eat.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Shit. Forget I said that.”
I laughed. “It’s okay. Actually, that’s one of the things I missed. Just being able to sit down with you all for a meal.”
“You were always at the table.”
“Unless I found something to do in the kitchen. But I was so anxious all the time, about eating or not eating, that I couldn’t enjoy my own family. And then I’d go to my room alone and fantasize about recipes on the Internet.”
“Like food porn.”
That’s exactly what it had been. A secret, compulsive addiction. “Yes.”
“And now you have the chance to have a healthy, satisfying relationship.”
I eyed her cautiously. “Are we still talking about food?”
“Unless you want to talk about Colt. How is the bad boy of country these days?”
“I don’t know.” I concentrated on twining crepe paper along the porch railing. “I haven’t heard from him.”
“Asshole.”
“I did turn him down,” I reminded her mildly.
“He could at least check in to see how you’re doing.”
“He’s hurt. I hurt him. I hurt his pride. I think Colt really loved me. He told me all the time how beautiful I was. How talented.”
“Well, you are.”
I picked up Patches, brushing my cheek against her kitten-soft fur. “It was like he was in love with his idea of me. His angel. His muse. I just couldn’t be who he wanted me to be anymore.”
Amy nodded. “I get that. It’s exhausting, being on all the time.”
“The funny thing is, I thought starving myself made me... I don’t know. Better. Stronger. Special.”
