Lynn hums, sipping. “Best find out before you make any lasting decisions.”
“Unless you’re waiting for marriage,” Fawn says, elegantly extending her pinkie as she lifts her teacup to her lips.
I look at my dear, dear only-female-friend-my-age, who encouraged the scandal that took place just days ago and plunged me into the need for a life-changing decision. My poor left eye twitches at the sight of her. “Why are you even here?” I ask.
She is notinbook club. When book clubfirststarted, I invited her, because she reads more than even I do, but she said,Mm, no, and went back to reading.
Innocent as a flower, she flutters her dark lashes. “I heard there’d be tea.”
“There is often tea,” I inform her.
“No, no, darling.” She sips. “Tea.”
Ah, I see. She wanted to gossip about my non-relationship with Damion. Well. Isn’t that just…fantastic?
Scooting to the edge of her seat, she says, “So. When I tell you this man isgonefor Mira…”
“Ohh?” Leeann scoots in, too, pale green eyes sparkling.
Fawn sets her teacup down so she can speak with her hands. “This one night, Mira went outside to apologize to him, or something. I don’t remember exactly. I think she thought she almost got herself fired or something—unlikely, considering howabsolutely goneDamion is for her. Well, Damion met her between our houses because he was coming to see her, too, right?”
A dramatic round of gasps circles the room.
Frowning, I nibble my lemon bar.
“They chitchat, or whatever. Hecups her cheek.” She lifts her hand as my cheeks burn. “And thenafter? Mira comes back inside. I’m watching at her bedroom window, obviously, like a good friend. And I see him take the hand that touched her and press his palm to his mouth in a kiss.” She closes her eyes and reenacts the moment while my book club goes ballistic.
“Marry him,” Leeann shakes me by the shoulder. “Marry. Hiiiim.”
Rattled, I say, “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”
Fawn settles in and regains her teacup. “I was living for the dramatic irony.”
Ah, well. So long as she doesn’t minddying for it, too.
Narrowing my eyes, I judge her.
“Whaaat?” she drawls, tiny smile on her face beyond incriminating. “It was cute. I said,daw. Also, people are less likely to forget people they hate when they become rich and famous. I needed to up my antagonism so I don’t fade into the abyss of obscurity once you’re having tea parties with European queens.”
“I don’t want to be rich and famous.” Having tea parties with my book club is anxiety-inducing enough. About half my energy goes into making sure I’m not going to break one of Lynn’s teacups or be too loud or make a mess. I donotneed that panic exponentially compounded via the presence of royalty.
“How about just rich, then?” Beth asks. “Think of all the good you could do with that kind of money.”
I wince, because that kind of comment presses on my raging justice gene. Icoulddo a lot of good with the kind of money I’d have access to as Damion’s wife,buta sense of duty to do good isn’t what should compel me toward considering him as a life partner. The stickiness of the situation surrounds me, beginning to suffocate.
“Screwgood,” Fawn blurts. “Think of all thebadyou could do!”
“What?” I look at her.
“Bad. Think about all thebad. Dumping oil in the ocean for funsies. Razing sweet little towns like this one to build smog-filled industry. Mass-producing straws to specifically end turtles andthenputting the weight of that destruction on the common man as a distraction from all the oil dumping and smog filling that they have nothing to do with, which are doing far worse things than any of the straws, which wouldn’t even end up in the turtles without your corporation’s assistance.” She smiles into her tea. “Embrace your villain era.”
I don’t…
Who invited her?
“Ooh, avillain era,” Lynn muses, round face more eager than it should be. “That sounds like fun.”
“Are your hearing aids not turned up?” I ask, forgetting myself, because Fawn is here, and Fawn is the bridge between me and myself, and—genuinely—who invited her?
