Charlotte’s smile falters for just a second.If they only knew how real these mistakes actually are, she thinks, and I catch the thought crystal clear.There are days I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached. Ooh, speaking of my head, I really should touch up my highlights.
“Well,” she recovers quickly, “when life gives you lemons, make content, right?”
“Speaking of life giving us things,” Macy pipes up with the gleeful expression of someone about to start some premium piping hot tea, “we never finished our gossip fest. I think maybe we should dish on what collectively should be our favorite topic—men. And after meeting Conrad, I think we need to establish some ground rules about men with commitment issues. Everyone knows that man is a player.”
“Oh, this should be good.” Camila laughs, settling back in her chair.
“I’ll start,” Macy announces as if she’s been waiting for this moment since birth. “Let’s talk exes.” She looks my way. “Remember Johnson? The guy who broke up with me via PowerPoint presentation? He had twenty-three slides detailing why our relationship wasn’t synergizing optimally. Clearly, the man was an idiot.”
“You’re kidding.” Georgie gasps.
Macy shakes her head. “Slide seventeen was calledWhy This Isn’t Working Out,and it had actual pie charts showing how we weren’t compatible. Pie charts. About our relationship. Had he bought me an actual pie, we might still be dating today.”
The laughter ripples across the deck like a wave.
“Okay, that’s horrible, but I can top it,” Camila jumps in. “I once dated a guy who seemed normal until our third date, when he asked if he could appreciate my feet. Turns out, he had a whole Insta Pictures account dedicated to rating women’s toes. He gavemine a six out of ten and suggested I invest in better pedicures. And here I am today, doing just that without him.”
Everyone out on the lawn explodes with laughter so hard that our mimosas threaten to come out through our noses.
“I got one,” Georgie declares, standing up again despite her nail tech’s protests this time. “I dated a man named Leftie who was perfect except for one tiny detail,” she says with a knowing look. “Every time we went out, men in pinstripe suits would kiss his ring and call him Mr. Torrino. I thought he was just really respected in the community until I realized his import business didn’t actually involve any paperwork, and everyone paid him in cash. Turns out, I was dating the head of the most powerful crime family in Boston, and apparently, mob bosses have a thing for sparkly jewelry and women over seventy.”
“Who knew?” Mom says, looking truly gobsmacked. Most likely she’s terrified the mob might be trailing them.
“I knew,” Georgie says with a wink and a smile.
The mob showing up at the inn is the last thing I need to worry about—but probably not the scariest.
“Men are just...” Camila starts, then pauses dramatically, “completely insane. Like one of my exes, who was obsessed with alien conspiracy theories and insisted on role-playing different sci-fi scenarios in bed. I’m talking full costumes, weird accents, the works. One night I’m supposedly an alien princess from Zorgon, the next I’m a space marine fighting off intergalactic invaders.”
Wait just a sci-fi loving minute… I’ve played the role of an alien princess a night or two before myself. I’m going to have a serious word with Jasper when I get home. That is, if I can pull him away from the sci-fi channel.
Charlotte shrieks with laughter. “Was he trying to seduce you or audition for Comic-Con?”
“But wait, it gets worse,” Camila continues with a roll of her eyes. “He had this whole elaborate point system for staying in character. Apparently, I lost points for laughing when he tried tospeak ‘authentic Klingon’ during what he called our ‘interspecies diplomatic relations.’ The man had a laminated chart rating my performance as various alien species.”
Klingon and laminated charts? That is so not Jasper. And I breathe a sigh of relief because of it.
I’ve always thought Camila was from another planet, and apparently, I’m not alone in that theory. And why is there a Klingon theme here today?
Macy nearly spills her champagne. “That’s nothing compared to my ex, Trevor, who thought he was some kind of bedroom feng shui master. He rearranged my entire apartment based on optimal energy flow for romantic encounters. I came home one day to find my bed facing magnetic north and crystals arranged in what he called ‘passion formations’ on every surface.”
“Did it work?” Georgie asks with genuine curiosity.
“The only thing it attracted was my landlord’s complaints about the furniture marks on the hardwood floors,” Macy deadpans. “I never did get my deposit back.”
“Okay, but speaking of exes,” Camila says, looking directly at me with a mischievous glint in her eye, “I have some tea to spill about someone who shall remain nameless. Let’s just say this particular ex of mine —who happens to be a certain law enforcement officer we all know and love—has some very interesting habits.”
My jaw starts to drop as I realize where this is heading. I shoot her a look that says,don’t you dare.And she nods back with a look that says,watch me.
“First,” Camila holds up a finger, “he talks in his sleep. And I don’t mean cute little mumbles. I mean full conversations with suspects, complete with Miranda rights recitations at three in the morning.”
I gasp her way. She’s telling the truth. Jasper sings like a canary once he nods off. And I hate that she knows this about him.
“Second,” she goes on undeterred, “he has a secret obsessionwith true crime podcasts and takes notes like he’s studying for the bar exam. It was so weird.”
Okay, so that’s true, too. But for the record, that counts as a shared interest of ours, and I don’t find it weird at all.
“Third,” she grins my way, “he practices interrogation techniques in the mirror when he thinks no one is watching.”
