Gigi plunks her ass down right in front of Ginny and me and looks at us intently.
Does she expect us to initiate girl talk or something?
I look back at her in silence and try to think of something to say but come up empty.
“Gigi, are you ready for your big day?” Ginny finally asks politely.
Gigi closes down her expression, and I look at her in surprise.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She whips her head over to me, and that girlish enthusiasm returns to her expression. “Oh, yes, I’m very okay. In fact, Logan and I are going to have a big pre-wedding party at Brick’s Barbecue the night before our wedding here. My mom and I think it will be so quaint.”
“I don’t think Brick’s is quaint,” I say, not able to keep my mouth shut.
Ginny freezes next to me.
After it pops out of my mouth, I worry Logan will tell me off, so I’m surprised when he starts to laugh. Dave and Blake laugh, too, and Gigi glares at all of them.
“It is too quaint!” she says. “What would you call it, Macey?”
“I’d call it country. Yeah, it’s a little old-fashioned, a little redneck. But it’s not something you can point at from a distance and judge, Gigi.”
Logan stops laughing, and his eyes blaze into mine intently.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Gigi says. “I don’t judge Darcy. And neither does my mom. She was here a few years ago, and…”
Logan kicks his tackle box so hard the sound reverberates off the water.
And Gigi shuts up.
I look between her and Logan.
What the hell is going on?
Beside me, Skip’s attention is piqued. He sits up straighter and stares at Logan.
Gigi clears her throat. She almost looks like she’s trembling.
“Anyway, I have nothing against Darcy. I think it’s…”
“Quaint,” I repeat. “I know. You’ve said it a bunch of times. But it’s where we live. It’s not a dollhouse or the place of the month. It’s home.”
Gigi looks to Logan for help, but he’s watching me. His gaze is smoldering, and I can practically feel Skip’s mind churning.
I turn away awkwardly and comment on the starry sky. Ginny agrees it’s beautiful, and the moment passes.
87
While Skip helps himself to pie, I take off my shoes and socks and walk down to the water.
“Eeewww, your poor feet are so close to all that mud,” says Gigi’s sister, Miranda. “Do you do that for the pores?”
“Huh?”
“Like at the spas? A mud bath.”
“Not exactly.”
