Page 48 of Spindrift

“No.”Instagram was full of reminders of the life she’d stepped out of, and she hadno desire to go anywhere near the magenta icon on her phone.

“Justdo it.”

Emiliaclicked the icon. Avoiding looking at any posts from friends and formercolleagues—though there was a very cute greyhound she double-tapped—shescrolled to her most recent tagged posts. Leave it to Anna Maria to stalk herregularly. Lillian, it appeared, had found her, too, and she’d posted a fewphotos from Angie’s party. Morgan and Emilia stood in the back row in the first,and Morgan’s grin made her stomach flip. She inhaled sharply at the secondphoto. The fact that Angie’s eyes were closed and Stevie was making the face Lillianhad told her not to pull made her suspect Lillian had posted it as a joke, butthe real joke had been on her. Morgan’s face was turned slightly toward her—sheremembered whispering something—and the look in her eyes could only bedescribed as smoldering. Then there was her own face: lips twisted in a halfsmile, eyes glancing up at Morgan through her lashes, every visible inch of herradiatingfuck me.

“I’massuming you forgot to mention your new friend was totally fuckable because youdidn’t want to offend my delicate sensibilities.”

“She’snot—”

“Totallyfuckable? Yeah, okay.”

“Anna.”

“Emilia.”

“We’rejust friends.”

“Honey,if any of my friends looked at me that way my husband would kill them.”

“Mark?He’s harmless.”

“EvenMark. Want to tell me what’s going on, Em?”

“Nothingis going on.”

“Doyou want something to be going on? Because she does.”

“It’snot like that.” Emilia stared at the porch roof. “Don’t you have kids to bossaround now instead of me?”

“I’mliving vicariously through you. Trying to get laid with toddlers in the houseis impossible.”

“Youmust be so disappointed in me.”

“Youhave no idea. But in all seriousness, are you okay?”

Shepinched the bridge of her nose at the gravity in her sister’s voice.

“Yeah.And yes, Morgan’s hot. But I’ve got too much going on.”

“Youdon’t think maybe a distraction would be a good thing?” Anna Maria asked.

“She’sa vet.”

“So?You don’t have to talk about work. You don’t need to talk at all.”

Emiliawondered if it was possible toheareyebrows waggle suggestively.

“Sheknew dad.”

“Evenbetter. You don’t have to pretend to be fine, which, by the way, you’reterrible at.”

“Whyare you pushing this?”

Silenceanswered her, then, “you deserve some happiness, Emmy. Life’s been a shit toyou.”

“Andwhat if this just messes me up worse?”

“Thenleave and come home.”

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