Page 48 of On a Fault Line

“I must look really bad,” I grumble.

“You look pale and weak,” Claire says. “Did you pass out?”

“Yes, but?—”

“Oh my, here…have something to eat,” Angie says, making me a cracker with cheese from the platter that the worker brought to the table.

Claire uses a long skewer to add fruit to it, arranged in the colors of the rainbow. “Here, eat. You probably have low blood sugar.”

Angie opens up a bottle of water. “Drink.”

I accept all the offerings for another round of unnecessary coddling, but only because I don’t like disappointing them. Feeling like a deflated balloon, I probably do need the hydration, so I comply with everyone’s bossiness.

Feeling good enough to move on with the day, I start to stand up, but quickly remain seated when I catch Collins’s reaction to my movement. “I just got a little dizzy. Nothing to worry about.”

“We’re going to go eat lunch,” he says, his tone unwavering.

Claire claps her hands together. “Where are we going to eat? This baby”—she rubs her belly like a genie lamp—“has gotten way less picky. So the world is our oyster.” She makes a face. “Ew, but no, and I repeat—no—seafood. We both have our limits.”

“I don’t have a preference,” Angie says softly. “Let’s let Penny pick.”

Oh. Shit. I hate making decisions. “Umm, maybe the taco shack down the block?”

“Yum,” Claire hums.

I tap a finger along my jaw. “And you know what goes well with tacos…”

“Orgasms!”

“Claire, no,” Angie says with a giggle. “Those go well with anything.”

“True,” her best friend agrees. “This is the problem with being horned up and sober. It’s never a good combination.”

I get my own laughter under control. “I was going to say margaritas.”

“Always down for tacos and margies,” Claire says with excitement, causing us all to frown. “Sheesh. Obviously minus the tequila… You can drink one for me though, and I can live vicariously watching each sip. It’ll almost be the same thing.”

I accept Collins’s hand that he offers to me, lifting me up from the couch. We make our way downstairs and to the cash register. Apparently Graham insisted on buying whatever we wanted to get today, so checkout is fast and efficient.

When we get to the taco shack, which is as basic as it sounds, we order a variety platter. The girls walk ahead to find outdoor seating, while Collins stares at me with his judgy eyes.

“No more alcohol.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t have a drinking problem. I barely drink.”

“I was not implying you did.”

“Then why the fuss?”

“You need to stay hydrated so you don’t have a dizzy spell again.”

“So bossy.”

He growls. “So defiant.”

I stick out my tongue.

“I’m keeping score,” he says smoothly.

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