They stood in the front yard, the bougainvillea rustling in the evening breeze, someone’s wind chimes tinkling a few houses down.
“Tomorrow morning,” Tyler said. “First thing.”
“First thing.” Stella scuffed her shoe against the path. “She’s going to be hurt.”
“Probably.”
“She’s going to say things.”
“Probably.”
“Will you be there? When I call?”
“Right beside you. The whole time.”
Stella nodded. Then she headed for the porch, pausing at the door to look back.
“For the record—you should go talk to Mr. Reeves’s class.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re good at talking about photography. You get all...” She waved her hand vaguely. “Passionate. It’s less embarrassing than I expected.”
“High praise.”
“Take what you can get.”
She disappeared inside. Tyler stood in the yard for another minute, looking at the bungalow that had felt too small for months and now felt like exactly the right size.
His phone buzzed. Meg.
How are you holding up? Luke said you seemed off at poker last night.
He typed back.
We’re calling Fiona tomorrow morning. Finally.
Three dots.
Come over. Anna made brownies and we’re all nervous for you. Luke’s here. Bea’s here. Come be nervous together.
Tyler glanced at the bungalow. Stella was probablyalready claiming the bathroom. They could sit in the tiny kitchen with the failed eggs still crusted in the pan, or they could walk three houses down and be surrounded by family the night before everything changed.
Be there in twenty.
CHAPTER NINE
The brownies were Anna’s idea.
“Creative baking,” she’d called it, with flour in her hair and a desperate look in her eyes. “Bea’s been trying to decide what classes to take all day and I needed to do something with my hands.”
Now the brownies sat on their kitchen counter, slightly lopsided but smelling like chocolate and good intentions. Luke had already stolen two. Bea was on her third.
“Save some for Tyler and Stella,” Meg said, moving the pan out of reach.
“They’re coming?” Bea perked up.
“They’re calling Fiona tomorrow morning. I figured they shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
