THE NEXT EVENING was Thursday and kicked off a whole six days without some godforsaken wedding event. Claire and Ruby came home from the bookstore to find Iris and Delilah sitting in their kitchen sipping on lemon LaCroix.
Claire froze, her heart suddenly in her throat.
“Hey!” Ruby said, barreling farther inside to meet them.
“Hey, Rubes,” Iris said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Delilah smiled at the girl, but her eyes flicked to Claire, who felt her stomach lurch up to join her heart.
“Help yourself to that key under the planter anytime you want, Ris,” Claire said.
“I shall,” Iris said. “Got your mail too. Looks like your mom sent you another package.”
Claire set her bag on the center island. “Oh Jesus, what is it this time?” In her vagabond retirement, her mother had gotten progressively into crystals and tarot. She burned sage to cleanse her space and talked about blocked chakras whenever she and Claire spoke on the phone. Not that Claire begrudged her the interest—she was glad her mother had a passion after handing her beloved River Wild Books over to her daughter’s control. Claire just didn’t have the time or brain space to really understand it all. Lately, her mother had taken to sending her things in the mail, everything from rose quartz necklaces to books on meditation, convinced Claire simply needed a little spirituality in her life to set everything straight.
“I want to see what Grandma sent,” Ruby said, picking up the padded envelope. She ripped it open and pulled out a box about the size of a small book. Her eyes scanned the front, reading the text. “The Literary Witches Oracle.”
“Oracle?” Iris said, standing and taking the box from Ruby. “Like future telling?”
“I have no idea,” Claire said, taking her turn with the box. “ ‘Discover divination using the magic of literary genius,’ ” she read from the back, where it showed the image of a card featuring Zora Neale Hurston, next to another card with an apple on it. Just that. An apple.
“How very magically bookish of Katherine,” Iris said.
Claire laughed, peering at Zora. Underneath her image was the word story. “This actually might be something we could stock in the bookstore.” She set the box on the island to deal with later before opening the refrigerator and taking out a beer.
“Oh, thank god,” Iris said, holding out her hand for one as well. “I was trying to be good, but this sparkling water isn’t cutting it.”
Claire put a cold can in her hand and then looked at Delilah. “You want one?”
“I’m okay,” Delilah said. “But thanks.”
“I’ll have one,” Ruby said, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at Claire. This had been happening all day long. The glaring. The huffing. The arm folding. All thanks to Josh, once again, who told Ruby he wanted to take her on a camping trip this weekend before he talked to Claire about it, which now meant that any objection Claire had would automatically turn her into the fun-sucking, hundred-year-old worrywart mother she always felt like she was around Josh.
And that was exactly what happened when Ruby informed her about the trip this morning and Claire responded with a very calm “Honey, I don’t know.” She hadn’t even said no yet, but Claire had still spent her day angry texting with Josh and dodging her daughter’s dagger stares while working on invoices and redoing endcaps.
“Oh, ha ha,” Claire said, reaching out to smooth Ruby’s hair. The girl ducked out of her reach though, sliding gracefully to the other side of the counter next to Delilah. Iris shot her a look, but Claire waved her off. She was used to this by now. What was one more explosive fight with her eleven-year-old?
Delilah nudged Ruby. “Hey, want to show me your room?”
Ruby’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!”
Then she bolted off toward the back of the house while Delilah got up and adjusted her very tight gray jeans. As she passed Claire, she didn’t look at her, not even a smile, but her shoulder brushed against hers, sending Claire’s stomach plunging to her feet. She chugged three swallows of beer.
“Jesus, what is up?” Iris said.
“Nothing.”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
“What gave me away?” Claire deadpanned, knowing she looked like shit and was making very little effort to hide the fact that she felt like shit too. She’d barely slept last night, again, thinking about Josh and then Delilah before switching to Astrid and Spencer, then back to Delilah again. This morning, she hadn’t even done anything with her hair after showering, just piled it all on top of her head.
“Josh?” Iris asked.
Claire nodded. “Camping trip. This weekend. As in the woods, with bears and ravines and rushing river rapids.”
Iris made a yikes face. “You can’t just say no?”
“I can if I want my daughter to despise me.”
Iris sighed. “Oh, honey. What if you went along?”
Claire had considered this, but if she went along, there was a ninety percent chance she and Josh would end up doing something she regretted after Ruby went to sleep.
Delilah flashed in her mind, soft fingers on her skin, the way she’d pulled Claire’s bottom lip between her teeth and—
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Iris reached out and squeezed her hand. “How about I order us all some dinner, huh? You don’t look like you could heat up a Lean Cuisine right now, much less cook for your kid.”
Claire squeezed back. “Yeah, that’d be good. Thanks.”
Iris clicked around on her phone and was done ordering pizza before it even dawned on Claire to ask her what she and Delilah Green were doing at her house.
“I’ve been texting you all day,” Iris said, sipping her beer.
“Oh damn, that’s right. I forgot to look at them.” Claire got out her phone and opened up the OSB thread. There were several unread texts between Iris and Delilah about a plan—mostly Iris demanding one and Delilah responding with nonsensical emojis like a robot and a nineties-era pager. “Sorry. I was caught up texting with Josh all day.”
Iris nodded. “I figured you were busy. Hence our visit.”
“I’m amazed Delilah agreed to come.”
“Oh, she consented rather quickly when I suggested it.”
Claire forced herself to ignore Iris’s tone, and absolutely, one hundred percent, not to look at her friend right now, even while what felt like a huge grin fought to take over her face.
“Ten days left,” Iris said, sipping her beer. “And the next wedding event isn’t until the bachelorette party two days before the rehearsal, which means we probably won’t see or hear from Astrid until next Wednesday while she spins around like a robot in heels.”
Claire groaned. “I don’t know what to do, Iris. She’s barely spoken to either of us since the dinner at the vineyard.”
“Unless it was about wedding shit. She barely shut up the whole ride home.”
“You know what I mean. Like, actually talk to us. I texted her this morning—just a hey, how are you—and she didn’t respond until three in the afternoon, and even then, it was a thumbs-up emoji.”
Iris’s eyes went wide.
“Yeah,” Claire said. “An emoji, from the woman who has to spell out laugh out loud in her texts instead of LOL.”
“I texted her and got nothing back.”
“This isn’t great.”
“This is what I’m saying.”
“We can’t very well get her talking if she won’t talk to us.”
They both took a slug of beer, then fell into a stressful silence. Claire’s thoughts swirled, too many things at once. A smart person would get very drunk right now, but that would only make her a sloppy, gooey mess around Delilah, which would immediately give her away as a sloppy, gooey mess around Delilah.
“So, camping, huh?” Delilah said as she came back into the room, then stopped when she saw Claire and Iris staring despondently at their beer cans. “Shit, what happened?”
“Astrid, the unfeeling ice queen, happened,” Iris said.
Delilah pulled a face and settled onto a barstool next to Claire, one leg pulled to her chest. “And this is a new revelation?”
Iris glared. “For those of us with hearts, yes.”
“Ris,” Claire said, then glanced at Delilah. “Ruby told you about the camping trip?”
Delilah nodded. “Bagby Hot Springs. Sounds fun.”
Claire nearly choked on her beer. “Hot springs?”
“I take it Josh didn’t mention that part?” Iris said.
“No, nor did my adoring daughter,” Claire said. “I guess I was too busy imagining a bear gnawing my kid’s face off in the middle of the night because Josh left the hot dogs out. I didn’t even think about boiling-hot water.”
Delilah winced. “So, not so fun, then.”
“I’m sure it’s a blast for anyone other than a man-child in charge of our daughter.” Claire went back to rubbing her temples. She couldn’t deal with this right now. Not with Delilah Green and her tattoos and her fingers and her mouth just sitting here in her kitchen, as though they didn’t make out like teenagers two nights ago.
“I’ve got it,” Iris said, her spine going ramrod straight and her eyes popping so wide, Claire worried they were about to roll onto the counter.
“Herpes?” Delilah said.
Iris flicked her off without skipping a beat. “The solution. We all go camping.”
Claire blinked at her. “All . . . all of us?”
“All of us,” Iris said. “You, me, Goth Queen over here, Ruby, Josh . . . and Astrid.”
Delilah spluttered her sparkling water all over the counter. “Shit, sorry.”
She started to get up for a paper towel, but Claire put a hand on her knee, freezing her in place. Claire kept her eyes on Iris, but she could feel Delilah’s warm skin through her jeans. Delilah sat back down, and Claire told herself to move her hand, but she couldn’t seem to connect her fingers to her brain. Only when Iris flicked her gaze down to Delilah’s leg was Claire able to slide her hand back into her own lap.
Next to her, she heard Delilah release a breath. Or maybe she just imagined it. Maybe she was already drunk off half a beer.
Finally, Delilah cleared her throat. “Astrid Parker. In the woods. Sleeping in a tent.”
“This is what I’m saying,” Iris said.
“Are you high?” Delilah asked. “She’d never go for that. She needs her cold creams and feather duvets.”
“No one calls them cold creams anymore,” Iris said. “What are you, eighty years old?”
“Both of you, stop,” Claire said.
“She’ll come,” Iris said, looking at Claire. “If you tell her you need her, she’ll be there.”
Claire’s shoulders slumped. “Ris. That’s manipulative.”
“Not if it’s true. You want Ruby to be able to go camping with Josh without sending you reaching for a Xanax every five minutes while they’re gone, right? So the only solution is to go too, but you don’t want to be with Josh by yourself because, let’s face it, the man is fine and you never make great decisions when he’s around—”
“Wait, what?”
“—and so we all go, for moral and sexual support, and get Astrid talking more about Spencer in the meantime.”
Iris mimed dropping a mic, then grinned at the both of them.
“Sexual support?” Claire asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Iris reached out and pinched her cheek. “Like I said, you’re a horrible liar.”
Next to her, Claire felt Delilah go very still. Her knee, which had been brushing Claire’s hip, just barely, moved away, and Delilah finally got up to get those paper towels and clean up her spill.
Claire’s cheeks warmed, blood rushing to the surface of her skin. Iris knew about all the times she’d slept with Josh after they broke up. And if Iris knew, then Astrid knew. And now Delilah knew, and Claire wanted to climb under a table with the emergency bottle of bourbon she hid in the cabinet above the refrigerator.
Iris reached out and squeezed her arm. “It’s okay, honey. I’d probably bone him too if I had the chance.”
“Ris,” Claire groaned, dropping her face into her hand. She didn’t dare look at Delilah. Not that it should matter. Not that she and Delilah were anything. Not that the other woman would care at all about who Claire slept with.
Claire sat up straight and shook her bangs out of her eyes. She needed to focus. Because as much as she hated to admit it, Iris’s solution was the only way to avoid a war with Ruby. On top of that, everything Iris said was true—Claire did need her friends there if she was going to go on this trip, and it wouldn’t be lying or manipulative to tell Astrid exactly that. If they all ended up talking about how Spencer was an asshole in a tailored suit, then so be it.
“Okay, let’s call her,” she said.
Iris grinned and pressed her phone to her ear. “Already had her number pulled up.”
