Page 96 of Love is a Game

The icy plunge pools are brutal, stealing my breath, making my teeth chatter. But oh, how that biting cold makes the heat that follows all the more decadent. I sink into the silky warmth with the others, a deep sigh escaping as my body adjusts.

Conversations swirl around me, blending with the rising steam. I let my mind drift, following the invisible threads that connect the women here, considering how Mia and Mason’s engagement has woven together so many different lives. The old, deep-rooted friendships, like Susan and Nora’s. The newer bonds forming, like Vivian slowly finding her place in Blue Mountain Lake.

Their stories.

Just like Misha said about how stories inspire her designs, how they breathe life into fabric.

That thought snaps me back into the moment as Raquel, mid-story, leans forward with a wicked grin, relaying tales from her recent trip to Lisbon— specifically, the “Seduction Class” she took at an ex-brothel on Pink Street, complete with pole dancing.

She pauses, letting the words soak in, taking in the raised eyebrows and widened eyes. Then, with perfect timing, she smirks.

“Relax, ladies. No need to clutch your pearls in horror,” she drawls, her voice thick with amusement.

“What ‘pearls’? We’re stark naked here,” Nora points out, laughing.

“She means like Great Aunt Carrie,” Mia explains. “Who never went far without her string of pearls.”

“And she always acted scandalized by my behavior,” Raquel adds. “Then left those pearls tome—to pass down toyou.”

“Shedid?” Mia grins. “Pretty sure that was just to mess with you.”

“She was a character,” Raquel says dryly.

“The best,” Mia agrees. “Always full of stories. Like, she was so proud that our relatives can be traced back to the Pilgrims who arrived on the Mayflower—”

“And never let us forget it,” Raquel says drolly. “She also used to go on about how, in some ancient time, she was one of the school children who got to vote on what to make the state flower—alsothe Mayflower.”

Mia sighs, stretching her legs in the water. “It’s a real shame Mayflowers aren’t suitable for bridal bouquets. They symbolize hope and new beginnings.” She pauses, thoughtful. “Did you know it’s now illegal to remove them from their natural settings because they’re endangered?”

“Listen to you!” Raquel teases, her smile full of affection. “My tough-as-nails baby, getting all sentimental now she’s gettin’ married.”

The warmth between them is palpable, easy. And I can’t help the sharp pang of loss that presses against my ribs. Not just for Mom, but for everything we never had. There was no easy affection, no effortless bond. Love was there, I know that, but it was complicated, hidden away in all the things we never said, never quite got right.

If I were to ever get married, what pieces of my past, what stories could I weave into something meaningful? A dress, a bouquet, a “something borrowed”? Who would pass that on to me? Any family members I knew are dead or absent. Who would even give me away?

But seriously. What does it even matter? It’s not like I need to worry about any of that. Because me getting married? That’s about as likely as me moving back to Blue Mountain Lake.

Chapter 29

Tuck

“So, what’s the story with the big guy?”

I shove another tray of plates into the industrial washer as Brady wipes down his station, getting set for tonight’s service.

“Hellbender?” Brady glances toward the salad station, even though the giant guy who occupies the section has already headed out for a break.

I slam the washer door shut and press the button. The machine roars to life, blasting everything inside with scalding water.

I straighten, shaking out my wet hands. “Yeah. The way he precision-sliced those strawberries, I was gonna guess he did time in a sushi kitchen.”

“Nah—prison,” Brady replies. “That’s where he learned to cook. I met him in rehab.”

“No shit?” I lean on the stainless bench. “You never told me too much about all that. Just that it was a detox type thing that cleared your head, and led you to moving back here.”

Brady sets his knife down. “Not exactly dinner conversation, is it?”

Fair point. But still. “It was a surprise when you gave up the LA scene.”

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