Page 82 of Roses in Summer

“She was exactly that bad. Don’t you remember the time she asked Celeste if she could fetch her a new drink because she thought she was the bartender at her and Dante’s house party last summer? Or that time she asked me how much I weighed and then told me she had a friend that sold beeswax pills if I needed help with my BMI?”

“You’re joking.” I don’t hold back my comment, shocked by Ava’s confession.

“Hand on the Bible. I don’t know if she was part of some MLM scheme or if she just watched too many TikToks about herbal supplements, but it was the most bizarre conversation of my life. And I’m a private chef for rich clients, so I meet some weird people.”

“Linc told Dante that Gemma showed up at his apartment this morning. He was on the phone and basically screaming into the receiver. She thought they’d get back together after a few weeks apart.”

The sip of water I just took threatens to rise back up my esophagus, and I cough, clearing the urge to vomit.

“You okay, Ser?” Ava pats my back with more aggression than warranted, and I wince at her force.

“I’m fine.” I wave her off, leaning away from her brute strength.

“Anyway,” CeCe continues, “Gemma freaked out when he told her there was no chance of them getting back together.”

“I feel bad for her,” Serena comments around a bite of bacon from her Bloody Mary. “I can’t imagine it’s easy to have lost someone you loveandyour apartment all at once.”

My older sister snorts her disagreement. “Gemma didn’t love Lincoln. She was using him for a free ride and the connections his mother and father could provide.”

“That’s not fair. You don’t know what their relationship was like behind closed doors.” I keep silent; listening to Serena and Ava argue about Gemma makes me slightly ill and entirely uncomfortable, but like bad TV, I’m addicted to the scene in front of me.

“Sure, maybe in the beginning they loved each other, or maybe it was a mutual respect. But Lincoln told Grey on multiple occasions that Gemma wanted to meet his dad, his contacts in the broadcasting world, and was trying to get Linc’s father to take her on as a client. Something about that never sat right with me.”

“Hmm, well, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore since they broke up,” Serena concedes, shrugging. “I wonder if Lincoln will come to the lake house.” Her eyes shift to me as she says it, a spark of mischief in her golden gaze that I look away from.

“If our little Seraphina’s there, I’m sure he’ll come.”

“Good thing she’s coming,” Bianca quips from across the table.

“Shut up, Bianca.” I find myself repeating a phrase I say almost daily.

“I’m just saying—”

“Hi, everyone. Welcome to Le Vol. What can I get started for you?” Like a beacon, the waitress interrupts Bianca, shifting everyone’s attention away from Lincoln, Gemma, and me and back to their menus. One by one, we order our meals, and the girls order refills of their cocktails before the waitress’s attention turns back to me. “Any cocktail for you? We have a full menu of prosecco drinks if you’re interested.”

“No, thank you.” I shake my head, denying the offer. “I have work, but maybe next time.” I hand her back the menu. While I wish I could dive into a Bellini right now, I doubt May would appreciate me showing up to work buzzed.

“You have to go to the library today?” CeCe asks, wrinkling her nose as though my work schedule is offensive.

“Just for a few hours.”

“A perfect opportunity to request time off.” CeCe’s eyebrows rise up and down, and I shake my head, laughing at her display.

“Drink your Bloody Mary, you pain in the ass.”

Manufactured shock stamps across CeCe’s features before she laughs. “Ava, stop teaching sweet Sera to be mean!”

31

Seraphina

“Don’t forget to request time off for the weekend of the Fourth, Seraphina,” Bianca reminds me as she slips into her room.

“Remind me one more time, just in case I forget.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor.”

Shaking my head, I walk into my own room, closing the door lightly behind me. The remainder of our brunch was filled with lighthearted moments, Ava spilling a bottle of water all over the table and seventeen reminders for me to request time off for the Fourth. It seemed that regardless of the conversation, someone would slip it in as if they knew I would avoid asking for any concession from a job I had just started—but not caring about the inconvenience and asking me to anyway.

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