Page 77

She runs a finger slowly around the rim of her flute, her eyes following the movement. There’s something distant in her expression, as if she weren’t sitting at this table with us anymore. As if her mind had wandered somewhere far away.

“Some people never overcome the loss of someone they love. Especially a sibling. One who had their whole life in front of them.” Her finger makes another slow circle around the glass. “Kayla lost herself in grief when her twin died. She just gave up.” She continues staring at the glass. “It happens more than you realize.”

The whole table falls silent at Sienna’s words, making the laughter from the table beside us that much more grating.

“Yes! We should definitely put on our cheerleading outfits for the party next Saturday. We can make a whole thing about it and do a cheer like old times.” Amber claps in excitement.

“I’m game if you all are. I think I still have my cheerleading outfit at my folks’ house,” Sydney says. “What about you, Brooke? Do you think you can get your husband to FedEx your outfit? Oh, wait. You probably wouldn’t be able to fit in it, would you? My bad.”

They all laugh in unison at their friend’s embarrassment.

“You all suck, you know that?” Brooke says, getting up from her seat and walking toward the buffet.

“God, she’s enormous. How can someone let themselves go that badly?” Sydney adds, real contempt in her voice.

“If I had known she’d bloated to double her previous size, I would have never sent the invite. It’s disgusting,” Misty adds with a revolted tone. “I had kids too, and I made damn sure to lose the weight after. Some people have no self-control.”

“Maybe you should give Brooke your diet regimen.” Amber laughs.

“I doubt waking up at the crack of dawn to run ten miles around the lake would be something she would be interested in doing. Aside from getting off the couch, I doubt Brooke’s seen much exercise,” Peyton offers mockingly.

“We best get some food too before she eats it all.” Delaney scoffs.

They all get up from their seats as I stew in mine.

They really haven’t changed one bit. Sure, Brooke is just as bad as the rest of them, but to gang up on someone who is supposed to be their friend means no one is safe from their ridicule.

Why did I ever think that I could be?

For the next hour or so, we try to enjoy brunch. Still, every conversation at our table is inevitably interrupted by the obnoxious laughter and insults coming from behind us.

When the Reds leave their table again and head to the bar, I decide to take a minute away from their toxic brand of friendship.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sienna asks, concern lacing her voice.

“I’m just going to powder my nose. I’ll be back in a few.”

Satisfied with my answer, she goes back to talking with Mikayla and discussing all things Bostonian. Apparently, the Irish mob is a problem there, and Sienna seems interested in learning how it affects the average civilian.

I start heading toward the B&B but stop when I pass the Reds’ table. My nostrils flare when I notice that everyone has nothing but half-eaten salads on their plates.

Everyone except Brooke. Her plate is still piled with everything she picked from the buffet earlier, barely touched.

Jesus. They actually fat-shamed her out of eating her meal. Sickening.

After feeling like I’ve lingered by their table longer than I should, I walk straight to the B&B, and instead of finding a communal bathroom, I walk up to my own room.

After freshening up, I seriously consider skipping the rest of the brunch. I’ve had just about enough of the Reds. Still, leaving Sienna alone with those vultures wouldn’t be right, so I have no choice but to go back.

Just as I’m about to continue down the stairs, Brooke’s voice drifts up from the main floor, stopping me in my tracks. The desperation in her voice gives me pause.

“Oh, come on, Misty. You said I could stay at one of your empty lake houses. Don’t make me have to book a room here. Doug was already upset with me for leaving him alone with the kids for a week. He’ll be furious if I actually have to pay for my stay.”

“That’s not my problem, Brooke. I said I’d see if I had anything available. I never promised you a house.” Misty lets out an exasperated sigh. “You know what Fairhope is like this time of year. Half the country comes to Maine to see the leaves change. Ever since this town became the new hot spot, everything books up months in advance. All my properties are rented. There’s nothing I can do.”

“But you said—”

“I said I’d try.” Her voice hardens. “And I did. I’m sorry.”