“Anyway, so I don’t know who these women are, but?—”
“Adele,” I chimed in, not even realizing what it signified that I offered her name.
“Chloe,” Lincoln said at the exact same time.
The names overlapped in the air, both spoken with a little too much force.
“Okay, Adele and Chloe,” the guy continued. “Just that it’s one thing to have a crush. Nothing wrong with that. But if they’re good to you, be good to them. It doesn’t have to mean it’s a forever thing.”
I knew he wasn’t intending to make me feel like an ass, but I suddenly did.
“Did you keep breadcrumbing her?” one of his friends chimed in.
“Oh, no. Matt’s so whipped it’s a joke,” another guy said with a laugh.
Matt blushed and shrugged. “I don’t mind being the joke.”
“What’s her name?” Lincoln asked.
“Stella.”
“Stella sounds like she’s good to you,” I said. “And, uh, thank you for the life advice.” I was sort of teasing, but also not at all.
Maybe I hadn’t been sick, and Adele hadn’t had to come to my rescue to check on me. But somehow, I knew she would be there if I needed anything.
Rolling my shoulders to ease the tension bundling there, I glanced around the group. “All right, let’s get some climbing in, guys.”
Chapter Ten
ADELE
Hamsters & pottery
Seated at a table, I finished off my sandwich, which was surprisingly tasty.The waiter came by to check on me.
“This was delicious,” I commented.
“Glad you enjoyed it.”
“Am I allowed to just check out the gallery while I’m here?” Though I’d been here with Cole and Asher, I hadn’t had time to peruse the gallery then.
“Oh, of course,” he said, gesturing toward the art gallery through an arched entry from the small café. “Go ahead.”
“Thank you. I’ll take care of the check whenever it’s ready.”
He promptly placed the check on the table, and I paid, making sure to leave a good tip. I’d done my share of waiting tables in college. After that, I looped my purse over my shoulder and meandered through the gallery.
I was studying a display of pottery that looked like it had watercolor paintings brushed over it—actual scenery on ceramic. It was beautiful. A woman, who looked like she might work here, stopped nearby.
“Do let me know if you have any questions or need anything,” she offered.
“This is just beautiful,” I breathed.
Her face lit up with a bright smile. “Thank you.”
“Oh, is this yours?”She nodded, her blonde hair swinging around her shoulders. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I’m Jasmine,” she said. “Jasmine Ward.”
