Delilah Green Doesn't Care(Bright Falls #1)(13)

Claire remembered the first time she ever went over to Astrid Parker’s big Georgian-style brick house to swim in the crystal-blue pool in the backyard. Delilah was a shadow, peering at them through that mass of hair around the back patio’s stone pillars. Astrid had asked her if she wanted to come play once or twice, but Delilah never did, and Iris hardly ever had very nice things to say about her. Eventually, the shadow disappeared, and that’s how it went for years, on and on. Delilah was a ghost, a wraith. Claire always tried to be nice to her—Iris was a little more teasing, but they were kids and Delilah was strange. They didn’t know how to handle strange.

Since becoming a mother, Claire had sometimes thought of Delilah. At least she thought of the awkward girl she’d been growing up. Claire’s own daughter was a quirky kid, artistic and precocious, easily lost in her own head. She wondered if that’s all Delilah was, and she simply didn’t have the right parent to help her navigate it. Isabel wasn’t exactly the most maternal of mothers, and Astrid had been just a kid herself.

Now, Astrid shook her hair out of her face and held up her glass. “It’s fine. It’ll be great.”

“It will,” Claire said, clinking her glass with Astrid’s.

Iris joined in, but she shot Claire a look and mouthed phone number before taking a sip.

Claire flipped her off.



* * *





ALL THREE WOMEN were sufficiently buzzed by the time Astrid’s phone buzzed on the table. She snatched it up to read the text, glassy eyes turning a little crazed, if Claire was being honest. She and Iris locked gazes. They knew exactly who it was. They also knew their night of drinking and best friend revelry was about to come to an end.

“I’ve got to go,” Astrid said. Iris mouthed the words right along with her. Claire fought a laugh. Because really, it wasn’t funny. “That was Spencer.”

“It’s only nine thirty,” Iris said.

“I know, but he’s tired,” Astrid said, gathering her purse.

“And?” Iris said. Claire wanted to kick her. Astrid was already stressed enough.

“And I’m tired too,” Astrid said, standing up. “See you in the morning?”

“Eleven a.m. sharp,” Iris said.

“Don’t even joke,” Astrid said.

Iris laughed, then stood up and kissed Astrid on the cheek. “Ten o’clock with bells and penis necklaces on.”

“You’re a horrible person,” Astrid said, but she was smiling.

“You love me.”

“God knows I do.” Astrid came around to hug Claire before disappearing out the door.

“Another round?” Iris asked.

“I should go too,” Claire said. “I’ve got to open up the bookstore before the brunch.”

“You know Brianne can do that.”

Claire nodded but said nothing. Brianne, her very capable manager, was doing that, but she was starting to feel itchy. Nine thirty was Ruby’s bedtime, usually. She wanted to say good night. She wanted to make sure there was a good night to say, that Josh wasn’t going to let her stay up until midnight watching crappy movies and eating bowls of sugar like he did the last time he’d been in town.

Okay, fine, he didn’t feed her bowls of sugar, but he did forgo dinner for homemade chocolate chip cookies.

“You’re full of shit, you know that?” Iris said, but she took out her wallet. “You okay to drive?”

Claire blinked into the still-packed bar, gauging herself. She wasn’t sloppy drunk, but her head definitely felt floaty enough that she didn’t want to risk getting behind the wheel. “No, but I can walk to Josh’s.” He lived downtown, about two blocks away.

Iris lifted a brow. “But you can’t walk from Josh’s back to your place.”

Claire shrugged. If she ended up sleeping on the couch, waking up to make sure Ruby got up at a reasonable hour and ate some protein before the brunch, so be it.

Outside, it was dark, a light drizzle frizzing up Iris’s hair and fogging up Claire’s glasses. Claire linked her arm through her best friend’s as they walked down the cobbled sidewalk. Streetlights spread an amber glow through the town center, turning the light rain into golden droplets floating through the air. A few businesses flew rainbow flags for Pride. At the corner of Main and Serenby, Iris slapped Claire’s ass in goodbye.

“I’m going to go have sex, just so you know,” Iris said, jutting her thumb toward the entrance of the building where she rented the top-floor apartment with her boyfriend, Grant.

“No one likes a bragger,” Claire said.

Iris laughed, but Claire noticed her eyes tighten, as they always seemed to lately when it came to Grant. He was a chemical engineer in Portland, and they’d been together for two years. More importantly, he was desperate to have kids. He wanted to get married and pop out at least four redheaded amalgams of him and Iris, go on vacations to Disneyland during the summer, and coach Little League.

Iris . . . did not. She loved her brother’s twins, visited them in San Francisco often. She spoiled them, sent them lavish birthday gifts, and had pictures of them all over her refrigerator. She doted on Ruby and was Aunt Iris in every way. But she didn’t want her own kids. She never had. It was a sore spot with Grant, and Claire worried it was getting sorer.