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I’m a woman obsessed. Madly, deeply, sickly in love with Cam Crawford.
“Girl. Tell me you’re not thinking of taking him back.” Grace stares at me with wide, serious eyes.
Is she psychic?
“No. I can’t. I mean—I want to. I really do. But no. I’m done. You’re right. I can’t trust him, will never be able totrust him. He’s a cheater. And I’m clearly not enough for him. If he’s into threesomes?—”
“I actually think it was a sixsome,” Grace points out, oh-so-helpfully.
“Whatever. Voyeuristic sex. If that’s his jam, then I’m not his girl. I don’t want to share him—not that he asked.”
“Exactly. He screwed around on you. You cannot go there again, Sloane. You’re better off without him.” She twists a springy curl round and round her finger and my gut roils.
Am I better off without Cam?We were pretty damn perfect together. I never felt more loved, more understood and adored.
Until I didn’t.
Gracelyn squeezes my hand. “You’ll be okay, bestie. I’m here. Maybe we should get a place together?—”
“You already have a place, Grace.”
“Yeah, but I could move. It’s really tiny.”
“Makes sense, since you live alone.”
“But we could move in together. It would be fun, like one long sleepover!”
The image of sharing a space with Grace pops into my mind. Her numerous make-up palettes cluttering the bathroom, non-stop reality TV playing at maximum volume, half-empty coffee cups piled high in the kitchen sink.
I love Grace, but I don’t want to live with her.
“Thanks, babe. For now, I’m laying low and not making any big decisions.”
“Probably wise.”
My cell chimes, an alert from the Ring doorbell back at my dad’s. If Cam’s on my doorstep, I’m gonna fall off this swing.
But it’s not Cam.
A huge bouquet of pink and white roses fills the phone screen. The delivery man sets the vase on the porch and then backs out of the frame.
“Sloane—” Grace’s tone is low, a warning sound humming at the notch of her neck. “Don’t fall for it. There’s not enough flowers in Thunder Creek—no, Georgia. No, the world!—to make up for that sin.”
I swallow hard over the lump in my throat, my jaw tight. “I know. I won’t.”
Grace pats my thigh. “Atta girl. Stay strong.”
“I’m gonna jet. I want to get home before my dad. I don’t want to have to launch into all of this with him right now.”
“Okay. You’re welcome to spend the night with me if you want.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay.” This is my new normal, this pitch black, overwhelming depression. I better get used to it because it’s settled in deep already, my own personal storm cloud.
We say our goodbyes and I hustle home, determined to beat my dad there.
I pull into the driveway and my heart sinks at the sight of my dad’s truck.
Dammit.Nothing’s going right for me today. Maybe I can sneak in real quiet and tiptoe back to my room without him seeing or hearing me.
