They do not shut up.
Charli is leaning forward, eyes sharp. Harleigh looks half mad, half amused. Matty’s face is tight with worry, her fingers twisted together on the table.
“We checked your room!”
“Your truck was in the driveway!”
“We called the hospital!”
Finally, I lose it.
“This is supposed to be an intervention for Matty, not me!”
The words burst out of me so loud that half the café goes quiet.
That does it.
All three of them freeze, the inquisition halts, and Matty’s eyes go wide.
“An intervention for me?” she says, confused.
Charli doesn’t even look at her. She’s still staring at me. “Great deflection, Shelby. Don’t think this gets you off the hook. We’ll circle back to you.”
I deflate, dropping into the empty chair beside Harleigh. “Fine.”
Perfect. Just what this brunch needs. A double feature.
Imma Jean appears like magic with a tall flute of orange-and-gold bliss and sets it in front of me. “Mimosa,” she chirps, “extra large, as requested.”
She follows it with a platter so big that it almost covers the table, stacked high with thick slices of French toast, dusted in powdered sugar.
My stomach growls so loud that Harleigh snorts.
Imma Jean winks at me and glides away.
I grab my fork and spear a slice of toast like I might never eat again. “Go on,” I say around a bite, waving my fork in a little circle. “We’re skipping me for now, remember?”
Charli turns to Matty, all seriousness. “We’ve noticed there has been some … tension … between you and Caison lately.”
Matty’s head jerks up. “What?”
“You’ve been short and snappy with him,” Charli says. “And you left girls’ night early.”
“And whatever it is, it’s even affecting you at work,” I add. “You’ve been missing meetings and cutting out early for weeks.”
Matty looks from one of us to the other, like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I have not.”
“Even I noticed,” Harleigh says. “And I’ve only been home five minutes.”
Charli reaches across the table and covers Matty’s hand with hers. “We just want you to know that we’ve got your back. And we’re here if you need to talk about it.”
“Or if you need someone to kick Caison’s ass,” Harleigh adds brightly.
Matty’s eyes go shiny.
Oh no.
I scoot my chair closer to her, instinct kicking in. “Hey,” I say softly. “It’s okay.”
