Knox shakes his head. “You can be happy without shitting rainbows everywhere.”
“Is that how she decorated her classroom?” Grayson asks. “I feel like that might be a health hazard.”
Knox flips him off, making Gray laugh harder.
I interrupt before the two of them can start bickering. “Look, I get where you’re coming from, but I think Farrah is genuinely that nice. Maybe you should give her a chance.”
“It’s too late now. She hates me.”
“Then there ya go.” Grayson holds his hand out. “She can’t be happy all the time if she hates your guts.”
Knox looks at me, desperate to change the subject. “What are we doing about this little shithead who’s bothering Leah?”
“I don’t know. They’re six-year-olds. They have no idea how to navigate their worlds yet. At the very least, I’m going to see what the school and Farrah say about him first. Ialso want to have words with Gina Halbrand. She told Leah to brush it off instead of taking her seriously.”
“She is so scary,” Grayson whispers as if she’s in the room with us. “I’m pretty sure she’s a witch.”
“You’re an idiot, Gray.” I roll my eyes through my laughter. “She’s not a witch.”
“She’s like a hundred years old. And her nose hooks in an oddly birdlike way.”
“She went to school with my Mom. She’s not that old. I do agree about the nose thing though. It’s very beaky.”
“I need to see a picture of this woman,” Emmett says.
Grayson pulls out his phone to find one while we talk about teachers we hated growing up. I’d have killed to have a teacher like Farrah. Instead, I got one who ran her classroom like a drill sergeant.
Knox says, “I’ll talk to Finn about this kid. He might know something the teachers don’t.”
“Thanks.”
The conversation shifts, and the guys start giving me a hard time about Gia coming back to town, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ll take the teasing if it means I get to keep her.
CHAPTER 25
Gia
My head pounds as I shuffle into the bathroom. With my eyes half-closed, I crack my hip on the corner of the vanity.
“Fuck. Ouch. Goddamn Gwen and her peer pressure,” I grumble, my voice raspy. I should not have had that fourth margarita—not after we finished those two bottles of wine first.
Such a bad choice.
Once I take care of business, I slowly make my way downstairs, where Farrah is still passed out on the couch. There’s a note on the counter from Gwen. I squint to make the words clear for my fuzzy brain.
Good morning, loves!
Coffee is made, but drink the puke-colored stuff in the fridge first. It’ll cure your hangover in about five minutes if you can keep it down. There’s bread in the box for toast if you’re up for it. Come see me at the Grind laterif you get time.
-Gwen
I scowl at her cheery words. How the hell was she functioning enough to do all of that and make it to work on time? I kind of hate her right now, but if this magic hangover cure works, I might kiss her.
“Oh, fuck! What time is it?” Farrah shouts before groaning out a curse. Doesn’t sound like Farrah’s feeling much better than I am.
“Eight-thirty. Gwen left a hangover cure. You want some?”
Farrah comes stumbling around the corner of the kitchen. “If that’s Tula’s recipe, hell yes, I do.” Her dark hair is a mess around her head. She looks adorably rumpled this morning with her eyes half-closed and her borrowed T-shirt and sweats wrinkled.
