Page 54 of Take 2
“You could go back to sleep in the car, I guess,” Preston offers as we get to the car now.
I get in and pull the seatbelt around me. “Why are you choosing to drive if it’s so early?”
“It’s a scenic route that we’ll enjoy more from the front seats. Plus, then we aren’t tethered to the crew.”
The car starts, and I twist the green scrunchie around my wrist. “Is it the same scenic drive where Grace Kelly died in a crash?”
He presses his lips together. “Part of it might be.”
“You are seriously trying to kill me! I’ll need to send James my will tonight.” I gaze out the window and sigh. “There are worse places to die, I suppose.”
“It would make a good story.” Preston’s tone is sarcastic, but it’s true. All of this is a great story.
“Is that the whole point? Are you creating a good story?”
His eyes slide over me and whatever exists where I’d like to have abs tightens. “That’s what we do.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Six Years Ago
Abobbypinhitsthe hotel bathroom floor when I try to open it one-handed. “Well, I’m not doing my hair as well as you would,” I say, “but an effort is being made. That ‘really easy’hairstyle you sent me on Pinterest is—shocker—not easy. I cannot make braids.”
“Weaver of words, not hair.”Cece’s voice echoes from my phone’s speaker.
“I’m putting that in your Tinder bio,” Morgan adds.
“I am not doing Tinder!”
“You seem like you’re doing so much better, though.”Furrowed eyebrows are audible in Morgan’s voice.
“I am.” I am better. Not just right now on this vacation my parents gifted me as an obvious distraction fromtoday.Living with James is awesome. It feels like I’m finally getting a proper college experience, even though I graduated in December. The odd hours at crap jobs to make ends meet while we pursue our dreams feels veryfirst time out of mom’s house.It kind of makes me regret living at home through college. Maybe if I had given myself this experience sooner, I’d have been ready to be married.
“Better as in actually drinking champagne this year?” Cece asks.
They were not fooled last year. “Um, not quite there yet.”
“Are you even allowed to drink French wine in Napa Valley?” Morgan asks.
“Nope,” I say. “It’s illegal.”
Cece groans. “You know what I mean! Any bubbly would suffice.”
“Not this year.”
“Well, at least your dress looks happy,” Morgan says. “Fake it till you make it.”
A laugh bubbles through my chest. “Yeah. So fucking happy. My mom is not subtle.” I wouldn’t have bought a new dress this year, so Mom did some online shopping and sent me a yellow, flirty, off-the-shoulder dress.
“Lesson learned,” Cece says. “Shop for yourself.”
As I wrap a tiny elastic around the end of the disastrous little braid, I think about the times I’ve shopped for Oscars dresses with these girls. It wasn’t every year … just for important ones. I clear my throat. “These braids look like shit.”
“They’re supposed to look a little messy,” Morgan says.
“Not this kind of messy.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong.” Cece’s optimism knows no bounds. “It should look like you just got laid and look hot but ruffled.”
