Page 90 of All We Need

ThenIremember the conversations withHarrietand my mom.

How doIforget the crazy theory that’s taken root?

My head spins with all the different explanations, but it’s one in particular that won’t stop popping to the surface.

IsAlyMartin’sdaughter?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

alessandra

My footsteps falterasIstare at the overflowing cart in the middle of the aisle.Chewingmy lip,Itake in the spices, chicken thighs, lemons, orzo, and tomatoes, along with a bunch of other items.

AmIoverstepping?

The small grocery store inSuttonBaystocks most essential items, butIdrove toJacob’sBluff, the larger neighboring town, in search of specific ingredients.

Something twinges in my chest.Boothis due to arrive at my apartment in an hour.YethereIam, about to spend over one hundred dollars on groceries because of the guiltI’vefelt since he revealed his deepest, darkest secret andIgave him nothing.

Pushing down my doubt,Isteer the cart toward the checkout, and almost collide with a willowy woman.

“Florence?”Iexclaim, swerving soIdon’t crush her toes.

Her white-blonde bob swishes when her head whips in my direction. “Oh,Alessandra.Hi.Whatare you doing here?”Shecrumples up the papers she’s holding and shoves them in her tote as red creeps up her neck.

I pretendIdidn’t seeresumetyped in bold lettering along the top.

Glancing at the food, my lips flatten. “Stockingup on groceries.”

“Yeah, same,” she rushes out, though she shows no evidence of shopping. “That’sa lot of food for one person.”

“Who knows when another storm is going to hit?”Ishrug, hoping she doesn’t press me further.

She nods slowly. “Goodpoint.Well, have fun tonight.TellBoothIsa—”Hermouth snaps shut.

I sigh in defeat. “Yourbrother is a blabbermouth.”

Apology laces her features, but she has the same vexatious glint in her eyes likeBooth. “Sorry.Icaught him styling his hair whenIpopped around earlier.WhenIquizzed him on it, he got so worked upIthought he was going to pop a blood vessel.”

Waving her off,Ikeep my tone light. “I’dappreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else.It’s, umm…”

What the hell is it we’re doing?

Florence mimics zipping her mouth shut, then throws an invisible key over her shoulder. “Booth?Who’sBooth?Soundslike a douche.”

I finish assemblingthe items along my narrow kitchen countertop when the buzzer to my apartment goes off.

Steeling a breath,Idon’t overthink it.Friendsdo nice things for each other all the time.Thoughnone of my friends back home have texted me sinceImoved here.Whichsays a lot.

I cringe, realizingI’mthirty years old, with surface-levelrelationships, and one bad decision away from having an identity crisis.

The buzzer sounds again.

Unable to contain my smile,Ipress the intercom. “What’sthe password?”

His amused voice crackles through the speaker. “BoothSadlerhas a gigantic co?—”

I cut him off and buzz him in.

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