Page 78 of When It's Us
Where the hell is she anyway?
Ginger
"Okay,what’sourexcuse?"Hayley whispers, hurrying toward Hank and Wren’s porch. Her wedge sandals are adorable, but with the unfinished yard, I’m genuinely worried she’s going to roll an ankle.
I shift the glass bowl of pasta salad to one arm and reach out with the other, in case she faceplants in the dirt.
"It’s gotta be something good. Something tragic but not traumatic. Believable."
I chuckle. "It’s not a big deal."
"We’re forty-five minutes late," she says, already halfway up the steps. "We’ll say we hit traffic."
"On a Sunday?" I raise a brow. "In Timber Forge?"
"Fine. We’ll say…you fell down."
"You want me to lie about an injury?" I ask, incredulous.
"Yes. Say you fell down the stairs and I had to splint your ankle with a spatula."
I stop behind her at the door. From inside, I hear music, ice clinking in glasses, the swell of laughter.
"Why a spatula?"
"Because I panic under pressure, Ginger."
I shake my head, laughing under my breath. It’s only been twelve hours since Hayley’s been back in town and I’m already exhausted—and completely charmed.
"How about the truth? I was working, and you had to change thirty-five times."
She flips her hair like I’ve slandered her. "We’ll say we got lost."
"You grew up here."
"Exactly. It’s suspicious. Keeps ‘em guessing."
She pulls open the storm door, and we walk straight into chaos.
Wren, Josie, Nat, Finn, and Norah are gathered around the kitchen island, laughing and talking. Everyone turns at once.
"Look who finally decided to join the party," Wren calls out, one hand on her hip, the other one occupying one of her twin daughters.
"Ginger fell down the stairs," Hayley blurts.
"With a spatula," I add, mostly because I’m tired and there’s no salvaging this.
"We were being heroic," Hayley adds, kicking the drama up an unnecessary notch. "There was a goose. It got territorial."
"You got attacked by a goose?" Nat asks, squinting like she’s trying to figure out if we’re serious.
"Verbally," Hayley says. "They hiss. It’s very jarring."
Without missing a beat, Norah hands each of us a drink like she hears this nonsense every day. Honestly, with Hayley, she probably does.
I take a first sip and nod appreciatively. "Okay, now gimme that baby."
Wren lifts Amelia off her hip and sets her gently into my arms. The moment she’s in my hold, I feel something settle in my chest. She smells like sunscreen and baby shampoo.
