The sun vanished in a mocking display of beautiful red and gold. When it was gone, she was left in near darkness, which was better. She replayed the way Patrick had smiled at Fake Salma, the way he’d leaned across the table to talk to her. He’d been so relaxed and in charge. Grown up. Cheryl had never seen him like that. He was her happy Labrador friend. Sweet, but kind of lost. He’d always let her take the lead, whether it was picking their movie or choosing where they hiked, but with that… woman he’d looked so in control. A shiver went down her spine and she knew it had nothing to do with the ocean breeze.
Would he take Fake Salma back to his big, pretty, owned-outright house? Would she sit on the couch where they’d hung out a million times? Would they have sex on it? Fake Salma’s fingers unbuttoning Patrick’s shirt while he—
“Nope.” Cheryl picked up her second margarita but as soon as the salt touched her lips, she had a terrible thought. What if Patrick and Fake Salma started dating? Spending all their time together and watching horror movies and going on hikes and ordering Sunday pancakes and Patrick finishing hers because she was too full and oh God, oh God, oh God—
“Yo.”
Cheryl turned to see Eden, alone for once, her blonde hair blowing in the breeze.
“Hi,” she said, trying to sound normal. “How are you, George?”
“Oh, pretty good, Bernie.” Eden sat beside her, and her warmth immediately made Cheryl feel better. She snuggled against her friend as Eden took the vape and had a quick drag. “You’ve been out here a while. Everything okay?”
Cheryl sipped her marg. She and Eden had been friends since high school. She’d thought they’d always be thick as thieves, but they’d drifted the last couple of years. Eden was so busy being a mum and a wife and recording artist that it wasn’t surprising, but it ached sometimes, feeling the spaces that had grown between them.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Where’s Jupiter?”
“Willow’s looking after her.” Eden nudged her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to—”
“Okay, I’ll guess. You saw Psycho necking it up with that MILF?”
Cheryl gripped her friend’s arm like a cat thrown in a bath. “They’re making out?”
“Ow!” Eden yelped. “Your nails, woman!”
“She’s a MILF? She has kids? Patrick’s kissing someone who has kids?!”
“I don’t know.” Eden examined her forearm. “I think you broke the skin.”
“Sorry. So, they’re hooking up? Patrick and that…?”
“No. At least not from what I saw. They’re just talking.”
Cheryl held in a relieved sigh by the skin of her teeth. “How old do you think she is?” she asked as casually as she could.
“Late thirties? Early forties?”
“That’s way too old for Patrick!”
“Not everyone has your weird hang-ups.”
“My weird hang-ups?”
“Yeah, like how you only smash dads?”
“That’s so not relevant!”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not! And even if it was, it’s not a hang-up! It’s a… preference.”
Eden tilted her head to the side. “And if Patrick has a preference for older women?”
Cheryl’s face went all hot. “That’s not the same thing. I mean, Patrick’s twenty-three. Why would this woman even be trying to hit on him? What could they possibly have in common?”
“Why do you care?”
