Page 9 of Good Guy Gabe

Cora glares up at me. “Why do you insist on lying when you suck so bad at it?”

“I don’t know.” It’s a fair question. My feet don’t hurt. I haven’t worn heels regularly in six years and prefer to not put the extra thirty pounds I’ve gained in that time in stilettos, but no. I’ve only been in these heels for an hour. I’m fine. “I’m just concerned you’re about to drop the hem a quarter inch that no one will see.”

“Says the point queen,” Cora huffs, but points are super important on quilts. People see when lines don’t match. They don’t see a quarter inch dusting around the ankles. “Tilly, can you do me a solid and fix that funny seam on the boning casing? See how it’s bunching a little?”

Tilly loosens the laces in the back and drops the side zipper, catching the bustier before it falls on the ground. There’s no catching my boobs, though.

And listen, there was a point in pageant life where we all dressed in front of each other. I even did some modeling for Cora back in the day, which meant lightning-fast wardrobe changes. It’s not like I have any issues being topless in front of my friends. They both make garments. I am apparently a perfectly proportioned size 8, according to Cora, right down to the reasonable height of 5’7”. I am their Barbie doll when they need one.

But I’m 30. I have the boobs of a 30-year-old. They are boobs that need either a bra or a far freer spirit than I possess. Of all the things I regret about marrying that asshole monster I married, the one that bothers me the most now is the fact that I wasted my good boob years on a criminally perverted man who was so weak he refused to even live to face the consequences of his actions.

I cross my arms over my chest, not even to cover them so much as to fluff them up as casually as I can, but Cora sees everything.

“I bet Gabe Shaunessy would love to see those gals just how they are.”

“GabeShaunessy?” Tilly repeats, her eyes brightening right up at the prospect of hot gossip.

I groan. I was hoping that what Cora witnessed would end there and not make it to Tilly. Tilly is a dog looking for a bone, but there’s no bone here. Gabe was cute and sweet and just enough of an oaf that I got the feeling that he doesn’t do anything criminal. He looks safe. He paid for my highest level of subscription and even watched some of my streams this week, which was really sweet of him.

But I can’t do this. I have tried to date a few times, and it’s always been a disaster. I tell myself I’ve moved on, but there’s a point where things become too real, our lives start to merge, and it hits me that if he’s another monster, I’ll be destroyed again.

I’m safe here.

“He stopped by on Friday right after you had to go,andhe thinks Joss is a marry.”

Tilly’s jaw drops. “Gabe is totally a marry.”

Cora nods as she goes back to adjust the hem down a hair. “Agreed.”

Oh god, not this again. “I’m still so confused. Who are the other two?”

“Blaise Sinclair and—” Cora starts.

“Kill,” Tilly says immediately.

Cora gasps, stopping what she’s doing so she can look Tilly in the eye as she says, “Merrick Briggs is the kill.”

“No way! I would ride that man like a show pony. Blaise is crazy.”

Cora shrugs. “Yeah, crazy hot.”

“Merrick’s hot and not crazy.”

“Are you sure? Are you really sure? Because I think he’s a secret psychopath.”

“Whatever,” Tilly huffs. “I need Doritos.” With that graceless adieu, she stomps her way down the set of stairs and through the door that leads outside. There should be a door at the top of the landing, too, but it got requisitioned for an art project back during the quarantine days, same as this spot that used to be my dining room and is now set up with a platform and circle of mirrors for Cora’s tailoring. Since it’s a full flight of stairs and the exit is on the opposite side of the building from the path to the barn, it’s not like anyone is going to see me standing here topless.

“Leave some Doritos out there for Jerry!” I yell as the door slams.

“You really need to stop feeding the raccoons,” Cora chides.

“I’m not feeding raccoons, I’m feedingraccoon. Jerry. And before you say anything, I got some rabies vaccine treats from the SPCA. He’s fine.”

I can tell Cora doesn’t believe me but recognizes a losing fight when she sees one. “So whatisup with you and Gabe?”

“Nothing.” Have I spent way too much time thinking about him this week? Yes. Have I gotten excited seeing him in the chats? Yes. But it’s not real.

“Lift your arms,” she says, and I swear it’s punishment for being grouchy.

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