Page 67 of The Version You Hide

“I kissed him,” I blurt.

The women are silent as I let out a long breath. It had felt good to offer that information up to these virtual strangers. I mean, sure, I could have confided in Harper, but she’s biased and would tell me straight up to go for Dylan when that could be the worst idea ever.

I look up to find three pairs of eyes fixated on me before Betty’s shriek carries across the table. “Slay!”

The rest of us can’t help but laugh at her response. “Slay?” I repeat.

“Yeah. Isn’t that what all the kids are saying these days?” she asks, waving a hand at the rest of us.

“Oh, stop trying to stay relevant, you old biddy,” May grumbles.

“It’s a thing, May!” Betty argues. “I heard it on the TikTok!”

I shake my head, restraining another giggle as I absent-mindedly manipulate the terracotta.

“You really like this boy.” Grace muses.

My eyes snap upward meeting her cool, icy irises. “Yeah,” I sigh. “Unfortunately, I think I do.”

Normally it would take a lot for me to admit something like this. I couldn’t even admit it to Harper, but here in this circle of women I barely know, I feel as though my secret is safe.

“Unfortunately?” Grace’s forehead crumples as her gaze softens.

“I don’t exactly have the best track record.” I let out an anxious laugh. I may have felt comfortable to share with them my feelings for Dylan, but I’m not sure unpacking the baggage I’ve accumulated over my lifespan would be a fantastic idea today. “It’s complicated.”

“Life’s complicated, girly,” May says, a finger pointed at me.

“You’re telling me,” I begin. “I don’t -”

“I wasn’t finished,” she cuts me off. Her lips are pursed together in a thin line. It’s honestly kind of scary.

“Sorry, May,” I apologise begrudgingly. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying, life is complicated.” She pauses deep in thought for a moment and I begin to think she might have forgotten what she was actually going to say. “But it ain’t worth living without love in it.”

My eyebrows shoot upward as I absorb the old woman’s words. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Hey, what’s that you’ve got there?” Betty asks gesturing to the clay in my hands.

I hold it up for her to see. Without even thinking about it, I’ve moulded it into a miniature shark, much like the one that Dylan had led me to on the snorkel tour.

“Oh, she’s good,” May says to Grace, nodding toward the clay shark in my palm.

“She sure is,” Grace agrees. “I knew this one had artistic talent the second I saw her.”

I smile back at Grace. Her words are kind, but I remember the first time Grace saw me.

It wasn’t the day she’d spoken to me on the park bench, my art book resting in my lap as I’d shaded in the colours of the sunset. It had been the day she watched me from the pier as I went for my morning run. Then again, when her stare had found mine through the tavern’s windows. I still haven’t been able to erase the image of her, the expression of anguish I’d witnessed on her face. I still wondered where that sadness came from.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat some more, ladies, but I have lawn bowls in twenty minutes, and I need time to warm up these old muscles.” May rises from her seat and ambles over to the table on the far side of the room where she lays her project gently.

“I need to get moving too,” Betty adds. “I’m going to the matinee session of Chicago at the Seabright theatre. Found myself a gentleman friend that loves musicals as much as I do.” She gives us a wink as she too, stands with her art piece – a tiny planter pot.

“Horn dog,” May mutters as Betty shuffles past her.

Grace shakes her head, chuckling under her breath. “These two. I swear, you never know how things are going to play out when they’re in the same room together. Great artists though.”

I laugh, moving to the table to place the small shark I’ve just made down. Betty and May wander to the sink to wash their hands.

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