“Glass.”
“Glass.” A contemplative smile played on her lips now. “So are you and Cruz really over?”
“Seems so,” I said miserably.
“Sorry.”
“Thanks. What are you going to do about your mother?”
“Move out as soon as possible, probably back into the city if I can afford it.” She took a sip of my water. “I mean, Fairhope is nice and all, but it’s a real graveyard. Not a lot of male variety to choose from, either.”
“I thought you made a lot of money.”
She always made sure to remind everyone about her juicy contracts. Gabriella snorted.
“I get paid in freebies, not actual money. Think my next landlord would be interested in getting eye creams for rent?”
“Doubtful.”
She stood up and looked around my kitchen, as if finally realizing where she was.
“Anyway, I just wanted to apologize and let you know I intend to head over to the sheriff’s right now and tell him, without getting into the details of it, that I’m dropping the case and that it wasn’t you who did it. I already called Trinity and your mom and told them, so don’t worry about that.”
So my parents and sister knew the truth and still hadn’t reached out. I guess they were going to sweep it under the carpet like everything else in our relationship.
No event was big enough to require them to apologize to me.
“I appreciate it.” I stood up, walking over to open the door for her.
Gabriella stopped on the threshold.
“Nessy?”
“Hmm?”
“You and Cruz…” she trailed off. “It’s different. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s always been so reserved and put together. You make him color outside of the lines, and I’m not sure it’s such a bad thing.” She gave me a quick once-over. I was wearing one of my floaty, hippie dresses and colorful sandals. “Don’t let other people ruin things for you. It’s not worth it.”
On the day Wyatt and Trinity got married, I woke up feeling like every MMA fighter in the world punched my tit the previous night, amateurs included.
My chest hurt so bad it was a wonder I could breathe.
I all but scraped myself off of my bed, crawling my way into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.
Unlike me, Bear looked bright and happy as he strode in with a big smile on his face. He was already wearing his tux, which I’d had to alter three times in three months, since he seemed to be going through a crazy growth spurt.
He looked handsome with his hair slicked back, and the plume above his upper lip was conspicuously missing.
“Did you just shave?” I brought the coffee mug to my lips, taking a greedy sip.
He poured himself some orange juice, throwing me an embarrassed smile. “D’you like it?”
“Not if you used my razor!”
I thought about the places that razor had seen in the past few weeks. Especially during my hookup period with Cruz and wanted to keel over and throw up.
“Nope. Dad got me a brand new one. The one you see in TV commercials, with a central trimmer and stainless steel blade.”
“Dad, huh?”
I lifted an eyebrow, taking another sip. I tried to look much less excited than I was. I liked that Bear had a dad now.
If I expired tomorrow, Bear was officially Rob’s problem, which meant Bear had one more person to take care of him. And since I hadn’t spoken to anyone in my family for an entire week, that was definitely good news.
“Yeah. And guess what? He and Cruz said they’d take me to get a haircut in Raleigh. There’s this place where all the celebrities go. They get their haircuts there, too.”
So Cruz, Rob, and Bear were a thing now. How lovely. How truly, very lovely.
My traitorous heart did a few flips, and I put my coffee mug down.
“When did that happen?”
“Yesterday, when Dad and I went fishing and Cruz tagged along.”
They went fishing, too?
It was disturbingly wholesome.
I was starting to think they were planning Bear’s bachelor party in Vegas without my consent.
“You’re only thirteen, Bear. You should tell me if you see people who aren’t your father. I didn’t authorize this.”
“We went fishing.” Bear opened a cabinet over my head and took out a cereal box, pouring half of its content into a bowl. “Besides, we both know Uncle Cruz is not a bad influence on me. It’s not my fault you didn’t want to move in with him. Which, by the way, technically means I should be mad at you. I could’ve had a game room, Mom.”