“So?” Lexi presses me, nudging me with an elbow.
“By far the best I’ve ever had,” I tell them. “There’s just one thing…”
All three women lean in closer at once, hanging on my every word.
I lower my volume to a whisper. “It’s just, I wish I could blow him. Like, really blow him, not just the tip.”
Lexi’s jaw drops, Gracie’s eyes widen, and Rory just nods, knowingly.
“No. No way.” Lexi shakes her head.
“We can’t all be born with no gag reflex, Lex,” Gracie jokes.
“Sure can’t. You’re a lucky bitch, Alexis,” Rory mumbles under her breath.
“Have you ever seen that meme of the hamster and the banana?” I ask them.
Cackling laughter from all of them warms my heart, which is still learning to let others in, and when I can collect myself, I illustrate my point, opening my mouth as far as it’ll go and pointing at it.
Lexi reaches her hand out, circling her fingers against my lips and then holding it up to her face for inspection, mouth still in a disbelieving O as her fingers don’t quite touch in the same shape.
Rory doesn’t blink twice. “Trust me. I know what you mean. I’m married to a Grady. My jaw deserves a fucking medal.”
“I think that rock on your handisthe medal,” Lexi jokes, pointing at Rory’s emerald cut sparkler that’s damn near the size of one of the crystals dripping from the nearest chandelier.
Wine flows freely, and the conversation even freer, the four of us oversharing as we’re overserved and giggling our way through the night.
I’m glad I told the sisters about my past earlier this week, the day after I told West. Neither of them judged me, just like Weston didn’t. Lexi wrapped me up in her arms and squeezed half the life out of me when I was done talking, and Rory just held my hand, eyes shining bright, but it was more than enough. No one else will ever truly understand what I’ve been through, but for now, being able to share my story with women who want to share my burden was therapeutic beyond words.
West had suggested I ask Rory for help with my brother, finding a way out from under his thumb so we can get my mom moved to town and that nightmare portion of my life can finally be over. Rory offered, too, and we have a meeting scheduled to discuss my brother and mother and possible paths forward.
Truthfully, I’m not sure I’m one hundred percent ready to take my brother on yet. Give me a second to settle, please. These past couple of months have been something I never saw coming.
I’m still adjusting to this world where I have a boyfriend, and friends, and they all know my past andstillwant me in their lives anyway.
The pessimist in me is waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to come to their senses and realize I don’t belong. The darkest parts of me are waiting for the reveal that this is all some joke, they pity me enough they’re letting me stick around until they can figure out how to get rid of me. But the optimist in me is trying to believe the best in the situation, and of these people who have given me no reason to doubt them.
Rory probably shared my story with Wyatt by this point, but I’m not ready to tell Gracie, or stars forbid, let the rest of the town in. My past is something I plan to keep to just the Grady-Weiss family for now, hopefully for good. Just because these fewpeople are good and kind and fair, doesn’t mean the rest of the town would be if word got out.
It’s not too late for me to be chased out of here with pitchforks.
The smiles I get from the Weiss sisters throughout the night, the knowing looks and hand squeezes, they mean the world to me.
You belong, they say.
It’s enough to make my eyes water if I let it. So instead, I don’t go there. I stay in the moment, laughing and bonding with the other women like I’m a normal person as they share stories from their jobs, the men in their lives, and life in this small mountain town I’m starting to think of as home.
The night fliesby in a blur of dirty jokes and core memories formed. My third ever girls night in my life, my insides are warm from so much more than the light buzz I still have by the time we’re headed for the door.
More pedestrians than usual continue to wander the stretch of Main that makes up Downtown Smoky Heights, probably relics from the soft opening. It wasn’t anything like the fancy ordeal Rory is pulling off for the grand opening later this summer, but there was still hoopla, visitors who traveled to see the town that was brought back from the dead, even some press in attendance.
That’s why I don’t think anything of it when a woman was standing outside the double doors as Lexi pushes one open, Rory and I walking out linked arm in arm, heads together, still chattering away in the sultry night air.
“Angel?” she asks.
And that’s when I see the small microphone in her hand. The person behind her filming the encounter on a handheld video camera.
“Angel Sanford?”
