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“I think so? Traumatized for life, probably, but who wouldn’t be? He didn’t even have time to pull up his pants after he started CPR, so the medics found him, dick out, and they thought it was some necrophilia situation. Could you imagine? But what a way for Mrs. Ogletree to go.”

She slow claps.

“Really gives new meaning to the phrase ride or die,” I say.

A laugh bubbles up from her throat, and before I know it, we erupt. I shouldn’t be laughing, really laughing, with her. I cover my mouth, trying to pull it back in, but we’re already wheezing. My stomach cramps and tears prickle at the corners of my eyes.

It feels so stupidly good to laugh that I almost get mad at her for it. She might be the reason a girl ended up dead in a hot spring with ants up her nostrils. Bobbi could be lying to me, manipulating me, and I might actually miss our fake friendship when this is over. All I have left to come home to is a gluten-free Eataly pizza that’s probably green with mold by now.

I look away, my throat clogging with emotion as the laughter fizzles out. My parents still call every Sunday night from the one spot on the island that gets decent service, but it’s not the same as talking to someone daily. They get the playbacks, and I want someone in real time.

I used to tell my mom everything the second it happened. It didn’t matter if a storm ruined my blowout or I needed advice on how to soundproof a basement using only bubble-wrap, she was my first call. When she fled with my dad, that closeness disappeared with her.

Bobbi scans my face, and her smile fades. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

I shake my head, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing. I’m just going to be sad when we have to leave. I love Manhattan, but it isn’t this peaceful.”

It’s true, too.

She reaches for my hand, squeezing gently. “You can come back to visit anytime. Seriously. You know I’ll take any excuse to make a charcuterie board.”

I should pull my hand away, but instead, I let myself pretend this is real because sometimes dreaming is the only thing that gets me through reality.

“Butterballs!” Lawton suddenly shouts.

We jerk our heads to see him and Arch shotgunning beers by the turkey leg stand. Lawton finishes first and hurls the can onto the ground before stomping on it.

Then he looks up.

He doesn’t even scan the rodeo, his eyes latch straight onto mine. Like he always knew where I was, and he’s checking I’m still there.

Bobbi’s gaze swings to Lawton, then back to me. She studies my face. “You two really have something special, don’t you?”

I’m about to fake it and blurt, of course, my husband’s just the perfect man! But then Lawton tilts his head from afar. A silent, you good? I can feel that invisible thread across the crowd. I’ll watch your back while you watch mine.

“We do,” I finally admit, so soft it almost gets lost in the leather-scented night.

Something glitches in Bobbi’s expression, but her casual smile is back so fast that I can’t tell what it was. It seemed like happiness, but sharper.

I narrow my eyes. Sabrina. That’s what she called me, didn’t she? And then there’s the discrepancy in their How We Met stories.

“So, I forgot. How’d you and Arch meet again?” I say.

“I asked him to take my picture when we met, and he dropped my phone in the hot spring. I know! He felt so bad about it, he wanted to buy me dinner, but later he said he just wanted to see me again.”

Got her.

“Really?” I say as innocent as I can manage. “That’s funny. Arch told Luke you met on the apps.”

I watch for any tell, but I don’t have to look too carefully because her chest flushes. I trap a grin between my lips.

“Dammit, Arch,” she says, rolling her eyes with a half smile. “He’s not supposed to tell people that, but okay… yeah, we met on the apps. Our first date was at a bar, so I tell people the hot spring story instead. I just always wanted a cute story. Like what you and Luke have, how he laid eyes on you and knew you were the one.”

“That’s not how it happened, trust me. He hated me at first,” I say, annoyed she recovered so fast. I wanted her to fluster, or scramble, or blurt out, I’m sorry I killed her! But that’s a perfectly reasonable excuse.

“Well, he definitely doesn’t now. The way he looks at you?” She fans herself, then adds, “Isn’t being married to your best friend kind of amazing?”

My first thought is that we’re not friends, but then I think about the way Lawton smirks at strangers and smiles for me, and how I haven’t felt the urge to impulse buy another Betta fish just to have someone to greet when I come home.