I shake his hand. “Thanks, again. I appreciate everything.”
He gulps. “Sally Ray’s going to be pissed, but what you’re doing is important.”
“I think so.”
Back outside, Rowe has walked Cristina to the truck, but Cristina’s shaking her head. “I can’t get in, Rowe. My legs don’t move like that right now.”
I frown. “They’re not moving how?”
“You know.” Cristina opens her hooded eyes. “Up and down. They’re broken.”
Rowe cocks her head toward her friend. “She’s pretty buzzed.”
“Let me help you, then.”
While Rowe holds the door open, I hook my arms under Cristina’s legs and slide her into the truck.
“Jace used to hold me like that—once upon a time. Ah!” She flops down on the back seat. “He used to love me!”
She begins wailing as I close the door. Rowe grimaces. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I love taking drunk ladies home. Haven’t done it in years.”
Once Rowe and I are inside, Cristina’s blowing her nose into the long sleeve of her shirt. “I’m so sorry that you have to see me like this, Pane. This is not my normal. Tell him, Rowe.”
“This is not her normal,” Rowe deadpans.
Cristina’s head pops up between us. “See? I’m not like this at all. I’m a very put-together person. I’m a massage therapist and I travel to people’s homes—but only if I trust them. I can’t be showing up to some rando’s place. Rowe, remember the time I went to that man’s house and he had all those women’s shoes hanging from the ceiling? I didn’t stay. Ugh. I really need my own space to work.”
She does, does she?
Rowe and I exchange a look.
Cristina keeps talking. “But that man’s house wasn’t anything like Jace’s, which seems empty now that my stuff’s gone—and tonight I had all those drinks and my brain went haywire. His name just appeared on my phone out of nowhere, and I pushed the button.”
She holds up a wrapped empanada in a bag. “I even got him food! Why did I do that, Rowe?”
“Because you’re not over him. Give me that.”
She takes the empanada, rolls down the window, and flings it outside.
Cristina gasps. “That’s his food. What’s Jace going to eat now?”
“Bugs, for all I care.”
There’s a pause before Cristina whimpers, “But we were so good together.”
“You were good until he decided to be a royal jerk. There are tons of other great guys out there whose names aren’tJace.”
Cristina groans and slumps back on the seat. “I don’t want one of the Collins boys.”
“Collins boys?” I ask Rowe.
She shakes her head. “Don’t ask. Oh, make a right at the next turn.”
We stop outside a small apartment complex. “We’re here.” She glances over her shoulder. “Cristina?”
Loud snoring comes from the back seat.
