Page 80 of Win Big

“No, I haven’t. But we’re seeing Matthew and Aline this weekend. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay, good.”

“What about you? Have you talked to your mom about the money?”

“Yes.” I wrinkle my nose. “She wasn’t informative. I’m sure she knows exactly what’s going on, though. She just basically told me to keep my nose out of it.”

“Ugh.” Lacey purses her lips. “I have a feeling she knows everything.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just my intuition. Théo is even coming around to that idea.”

“Really?” My mouth falls open. “I thought he hates my mom.”

“No!” Then she stretches her lips into a grimace. “Well, not hate, but there were bad feelings. That’s no secret. But I’m an outsider and I guess I’m seeing things differently, and kind of opening his eyes.”

“JP says he’s always liked Chelsea,” Taylor adds.

I smile. “Well,Ithink my mom is awesome.”

“I agree,” Lacey says firmly. “Whatever happened to that money, I’m sure she wasn’t involved.”

“Then how does she know what’s going on?”

“Well, I could come up with several different stories that I could make up. One of them might be true.”

I laugh. “I’ve imagined a lot of different scenarios too.” Usually lying in my bed at night when I can’t sleep.

“Okay, back to Wyatt,” Lacey says with determined cheerfulness. “Are you going tell us about the sex?”

“No. Who’s going to yoga Saturday morning?”

“Oooh, me, me!” Taylor says. “I want to. Come on, Lacey. You’re so stubborn about this.”

“I will fall in the water.”

We go to a stand-up paddleboard yoga class in Marina del Rey. It’s really cool. Being on the water adds an extra soothing component to the yoga poses. Lacey refuses to try it, though.

“Fine.” I sigh. “I think you’d like it, though.”

“Lace, tell us about doing Rielle Simpson’s makeup,” Taylor urges her. Rielle is an up-and-coming young African American actress.

“I really want to hear about sex with Wyatt,” Lacey pouts.

I laugh. “Absolutely not. Because if you two tell me about sex with my nephews, I’ll be grossed out forever.”

When I get home,I toss my coat in the closet, kick off my heels, and grab my phone. I throw myself down onto my couch and prop my bare feet on the coffee table, and scroll through my social media.

But first . . . there’s a text from Wyatt.

A silly smile tugs at my lips as I open the message app. God. I can’t believe how happy a text from him makes me feel. This is ridiculous.

I have an idea for our next date.

Huh. I push out my bottom lip and reply.

Yeah? What is it?

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