Grace's eyes cut to me, delighted. "Does she?"
"Bug," I warn.
"Oh, I want to hear this," Grace says, leaning forward. "What does Jane say about me?"
West smoothly takes charge. "Jane mentioned you're in nursing school? Tough program. Respect."
His tone is easy, genuine. "She also mentioned you're the brains of the operation. Clearly true, based on the texting speed alone. Impressive."
Grace's expression softens. "She said that?"
"Direct quote: 'Grace is going to save lives someday, and I'm going to be the annoying sister in the waiting room telling everyone I raised her.'"
My throat tightens.
Grace's eyes are suddenly shiny. "Jane..."
"Anyway," I say loudly, unsuccessfully grabbing the phone from West. "West was just leaving—"
"I wasn't."
"—because we have wedding-work things—"
"We have time."
Grace laughs as she pulls her camera closer, her Cheshire grin filling the screen. “Sorry for ambushing you with my texts, Jane. I panicked.”
Then—like the adorable little punk she always is—she tilts her head and gloats, “But I’m not sorry for checking in. You look happy.”
Grace is smiling directly at me now. "I like him, Jane."
“You’ve known him for thirty seconds—” I say, ignoring the lump in my throat.
"He made you smile in a photo," Grace says simply. "Like, actually smile. Not your 'I'm-fine-everything's-fine' smile. Your real one."
Well, shit.
West glances at me, something warm and dangerous in his eyes.
"Okay," I say, trying to snatch my phone back. "Goodbye, Grace—"
"Wait!" Grace yelps. "I need to know—are you being safe? Do you need me to send—"
"We have an entire Costco box," West calls out helpfully.
I am going to die. Actual death. Right here by the pool.
Grace dissolves into laughter. "Oh my gosh, Ilove him. Keep him."
“Wait! Weston Prescott—be good to my sister or I'll find you and test your reflexes with a bedpan!"
"Bye, Grace!" I hit the end call button.
Silence.
West is still grinning at me.
"That was—" I start.
