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Milo never got over how quickly his father remarried after losing his mother. At the time, I’d assumed Paul was simply trying to put his life back together. To give Milo some semblance of a family again.

Maybe once Milo grew up and no longer needed that motherly presence, Paul finally took a hard look at the life he’d built and realized he didn’t love Jennine the way he’d loved Lucia. Perhaps he realized he never had. And maybe living a life built on that lie was no longer something he could do.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Whatever happened between them, I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision for Paul to make. Jennine deserved better, too.”

“Keep your sorries. You were never a fan of our family dynamic to begin with.”

“That’s not true. If you’d been a real sister to Milo, I wouldn’t have had a problem with it.”

“I was a sister to him.” Peyton’s eyes narrow. “I was more than a sister.”

“No, Peyton. You were never more to him than that. You just wanted to be. That was your problem.”

Peyton’s nostrils flare as she all but throws daggers at me with just one look.

Ten years ago, that look alone would have had me shrinking into myself.

Today, I don’t so much as flinch.

And fuck if I’m not a little proud of myself for it.

“Ladies,” Misty interrupts, her gaze darting between the handful of women who have stopped pretending not to listen. “Maybe we should take this conversation somewhere less public?”

“No need.” Peyton smooths a hand over her dress. “I think I’ve monopolized enough of Max’s time already.” She looks back at me. “Enjoy the brunch.” She then turns on her heel and walks away, with Misty right behind her.

A smile tugs at my lips as I watch her retreat through the crowd, imagining steam pouring out of her ears with every step.

Well, look at me. I didn’t do half bad right there. Huh. Maybe I will survive this week after all.

I’m just about to start looking for Sienna when Mrs. Trott comes out into the garden, announcing that brunch is served.

Along with the rest of the crowd, I make my way over to the tented area to find my table, only to frown when I see it’s right next to the Reds.

Great. It was one thing to deal with them in small increments. It’s a totally different matter having to sit through this whole brunch listening to them yap away.

“Want to change seats with me?” Sienna appears behind me, holding what looks suspiciously like a glass of whiskey.

I’m not sure it’s a good sign that my friend has already ditched the mimosas and moved on to the hard stuff.

Then again, this is Fairhope. I can’t exactly fault anyone for needing a little liquid courage to survive the place.

Even so, I make a mental note to check in with her later. There’s a difference between using alcohol as a crutch to get through one shitty week, and needing it to get through every other one too. Right now, I’m not entirely sure which one I’m looking at.

“Yes, please.” I nod.

At least from Sienna’s seat, I won’t have to look at the Reds for the entirety of this godforsaken brunch.

We both sit down as our other classmates find their respective name tags and seats. I’m not surprised that the women sitting at our table didn’t have much clout back in high school. Still, at least I feel like I’m sharing a meal with grown-ups when they all start describing the past ten years of their lives.

Goth Mikayla is now an art gallery manager in Boston. Holly, who used to live in the library, is now a librarian in Portsmouth and living her best life. Dolores, who spent most of her time in drama class, made her way to California and is teaching acting to underprivileged inner-city kids. Laura and Tammi are the only two who stayed in Fairhope. Laura, who spent most of her time back in school in the principal’s office for getting stoned under the bleachers, is now a school counselor, while Tammi seems perfectly content working as a bank teller and being a dog mom to two Pomeranians.

Every woman at this table has made something of herself while finding a way to put some good back into the world.

The table next to ours, however, seems to have taken a slightly more self-serving path.

“The Bakers are desperate. I’m sure Roger will get a good deal on that piece of land. I have no doubt we’ll break ground before the year is through,” I hear Misty brag to her friends.

“Wow. Good on you. The Bakers have had that side of the lake for centuries. Are you sure your husband is able to get it? Last time I talked to Troy, he was pretty adamant that he didn’t want to sell,” Amber gossips.