“You have a God-given gift, Avs,” Sadie tells me.
The cookies make their way around the room, and each woman reacts as if they’re edible gold rather than a basic recipe I’ve made a thousand times. My lungs constrict thinking about how much I don’t deserve their kindness and loyalty in showing up, even when I told them not to.
“Enough about jizz-face Jon.” Molly tucks her long legs beneath her. “Tell us about staying with Jeremy.”
My heart seems to skip a beat. “What about it?”
Sloane chuckles. “My brother isn’t exactly known for his hospitality.”
Six pairs of eyes fix on me with varying degrees of curiosity. I dial my face to neutral, grateful for years of practice at hiding what I really feel.
“He had a way nicer setup than me. That’s about it.”
“Seriously?” Piper’s brow furrows.
“No offense, Sloane, but he’s still an asshat.” I shrugone shoulder like the memories aren’t flooding back: the snorkeling trip, dinner with the Johnsons, the way his hands felt on my skin. “He was decent enough to let me crash when I needed somewhere to go.”
“Decent,” Iris repeats as she pops the last bite of cookie into her mouth. “Is that a word we apply to Jeremy Winslow?”
“I like it,” Sloane says with a nod. “Restores my faith in miracles.”
Molly watches me with an expression I don’t like. She can read me better than anyone, and right now I can see her filing away the things I’m not saying to discuss later.
I grab one of my own cookies and take a bite to avoid elaborating. The edges are crispy with a soft center, and the dark chocolate is just the right amount of sweet. I focus on chewing instead of my heated cheeks.
“Anyway.” I brush crumbs from my fingers, resolute on moving on from Jeremy in every way relevant. “I’m bowing out of the book discussion. My plan was to read it on the beach, but I was a little preoccupied thinking about my life swirling the drain.”
The truth is, I didn’t even crack the spine on Iris’s pick for the month, a historical fiction novel about female pilots in World War II.
“We won’t give away spoilers,” Taylor tells me. “So you can still catch up.”
I nod. “Thanks, Tay.”
“Let’s table the book discussion for another sec.” Sloane sits up straighter. “We need to talk about the bucket list.”
She raises a brow at me. “You’re up, Avs.”
“I need a pass.” The words come out too fast, and I force myself to take a measured breath. “A complete life implosion warrants a pass, right?”
Iris shakes her head, her dark hair swinging. “It actually makes for perfect timing.”
“Can my bucket list item be finding a job andearning some money?” The sarcasm drips from my voice like honey off a spoon. “Pretty sure Jon has blackballed me for every marketing position in the corporate sector within a hundred-mile radius.”
“Is corporate marketing what you want?” Sadie asks quietly.
Dang. It’s annoying to have friends who know you better than you know yourself. “It’s what I’ve always done.”
“That’s not what she asked.” Taylor leans forward, her big Disney-princess eyes earnest. “If you could have anything, what would it be?”
I open my mouth to make a joke about wanting an apartment in Paris or a lifetime supply of Prosecco or the ability to go back in time and slap some sense into my younger self.
“Happiness,” I say instead.
The word shocks me as much as it seems to surprise them.
“You aren’t happy?” Molly’s tone is careful.
“I’m happy I got out of an abusive relationship.” I pick at the lace on the edge of the apron I’m still wearing like a frothy shield. “I guess I mean joy? Something that lights me up, you know? I can’t remember the last time I felt that.”
