“I’ve hidden us well, Gold Coast. Now I believe we were just about to—”
I’d barely lowered my lips to her neck again when buzzkill Quinn ambushed us from behind the rocks. We all jumped in a synchronized group panic.
He stared for half a second, then visibly regretted it. “Gross.”
An urgent dishwasher repair followed,consisting entirely of me pushing theoffbutton.
On my way back outside, carefully transporting two hastily assembled margaritas, I asked my remaining freeloaders, Quinn and Grace, “How much will it cost me to have thirty minutes alone in the pool with your mother?”
“I’ll be quiet for Panda Express,” Grace offered.
Bless her, so easy.
“Hold on,” Quinn said, pausing his game. “Is this aquietthirty minutes? Because that’s gonna cost more.”
“How much more?”
“Panda and Baskin-Robbins. And you throw in the good sprinkles. The colorful ones. None of that chocolate-only garbage.”
“You’re ruthless.” I backed toward the patio like a dump truck in reverse. “Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I made eye contact with both of them. “And remember, if either one of you interrupts us, there better be blood.”
“Now, where were we?”I asked, wading back into the pool with the drinks.
“You were yelling at Mark not to lick his nards,” Michelle reminded.
“No. After that.”
“After that, Quinn ruined the moment. You’re cut off.”
“I’d like to appeal that decision,” I said, handing her a drink as I eased down beside her on the lounge chair carved into the shallow end. Late afternoon sun poured over us, its rays warming our skin.
This was the life. And Michelle had given it up? For me? I still didn’t know what miracle had convinced her to walk away from the life of luxury she’d been born into, but every day I woke up grateful she had.
Michelle angled her face toward the sun, eyes closed. “I didn’t realize how loud our life was at the old place until right now.”
“I mean, sure, if you like peace and privacy,” I said.
That was when the engine noise crept in.
We both opened our eyes as a Map to the Stars sightseeing bus crawled past, visible above the hedge-lined security fence—its bright pink paint, white angel wings, and diesel exhaust wildly out of place in this upscale neighborhood.
Then the speaker crackled.
“Okay, Angels, if you’ll look to your right, this house was recently purchased by none other than Jake McKallister.”
Michelle hid behind her hands, laughing.
“Oh, good,” I said, sinking lower in the water. “I was worried no one knew where we lived.”
“We’re going to need your guy to stop trimming those hedges.”
The bus rolled on, the noise fading with it, and the quiet rushed back in.
Michelle turned toward me, eyes widening, her mouth parting. “Oh, my god!”
“What?”
