Delilah Green Doesn't Care(Bright Falls #1)(34)

Delilah blinked to find Claire, one hand still holding on to Astrid and the other . . . smoothing down Delilah’s tricep to her elbow. Astrid frowned at her, though her expression was more curious than angry, and Delilah felt something uncoil in her middle.

“Come on,” Claire said gently. “Ready?”

No, Delilah wanted to say. She never was.

But as Claire’s fingers tightened on her skin, just a little, her feet unfroze and she took one step, then another, then another. Before she knew it, she was through the white-couched living room where she’d spent many a Christmas morning digging through her stocking in silence, and outside on the wide back porch, fairy lights casting a soft glow over the whole space.

There were at least fifteen people out here. Delilah recognized some of the women from the brunch, Spencer’s family, and of course Isabel, who was holding court while perched on a patio chair, champagne sparkling in her hand. Astrid kissed Claire on the cheek before shooting Delilah her usual irritated look and breaking off to join Spencer on the far end of the deck, where he was laughing with a group of three other guys, all of them dude-bro-ing it up with their preternaturally white teeth and perfect hair.

Delilah waited for Claire to break off too, speeding toward Iris or some other friend Delilah may or may not know, maybe Josh, though she didn’t see him anywhere.

But . . . Claire didn’t move. She stayed right where she was, her fingers cool and soft around Delilah’s arm, like she was waiting for Delilah to break away too.





Chapter Nine




CLAIRE WAS STILL holding Delilah’s arm. She didn’t know why. She told herself to let it go more than once, but she worried that if she did, Delilah might float away or crumple to the ground or just stand there looking as lost as she had in the foyer.

Or maybe she just liked the silky feel of Delilah’s skin under hers.

The thought was a lightning bolt, forcing Claire to finally yank her fingers away, sloshing a bit of her champagne onto the slatted porch floor as she did.

Delilah didn’t seem to notice. As she looked around and took a sip of her drink, she didn’t float or crumple, but her expression was still a bit wide-eyed. It was fascinating to see this bold, brash woman look like a deer wandering in the woods. Claire wasn’t sure what it was all about, but she really wanted to know, which was exactly why she swallowed her questions with a too-big gulp of alcohol.

“Hey!” Iris called from across the porch, pulling Grant by the arm toward Claire. “What took you so long?”

“It’s been like ten minutes, Ris.”

“Which is ten minutes too long to leave me alone with this crowd.” Iris waved her own champagne toward the posh group of people. “God, have you ever seen so much Louboutin in one place? Are we seriously the only normal people in Astrid’s life?”

Claire laughed. “You know we are.”

Isabel Parker-Green had money and a lot of it. Her first husband had family money, which passed to Isabel after he died, and her second husband, Delilah’s father, had been a pretty successful architect in Seattle before he moved to Bright Falls. He opened up a small boutique office here, which Isabel promptly sold (and possibly cursed) after he died. She was all about charities and philanthropy, but Claire always got the impression it was for the clout, rather than the actual do-gooding.

Isabel liked control, liked beauty and power, and she made sure Astrid knew it.

Back when Claire first met Astrid, the other girl had constantly clung to her mother, desperate for affection and attention. Claire supposed she understood it. Astrid’s stepfather had just died, and Isabel was locked in her own grief, and she could tell Astrid was terrified her mother would leave her too. But as the years went on and Isabel not only lavished Astrid with attention but nearly smothered her with it, Claire remembered countless nights in high school with Astrid crying into Iris’s lap while Claire rubbed her back, words like I hate her and Can’t she just leave me alone? stuttering through Astrid’s sobs.

Since coming back from college and getting her own place, Astrid and Isabel’s relationship had mellowed, but it wasn’t what Claire would call close. It was civil. Polite. Still, Claire caught that look in Astrid’s eye sometimes, the need to impress, to please.

“Just think,” Iris said, waving her glass at the crowd. “By this time tomorrow, it’ll just be the three of us with copious amounts of wine at a five-star-rated spa.”

Next to Claire, Delilah cleared her throat. “I should get some shots before dinner,” she said before trailing off to a darker corner, setting her drink on the nearby table, and kneeling down to get out her camera.

“Iris,” Claire said, smacking her friend on the arm.

“Ow. What?”

“You said the three of us. Delilah’s going too.”

Iris’s mouth parted, but then she shrugged. “I doubt she actually wants to. Astrid’s paying her. It’s a job.”

“Easy, Iris,” Grant said.

“Oh, come on,” Iris said. “The woman would rather chew on broken glass than be here. It’s obvious.”

Claire shook her head, her stomach clenching as she glanced at Delilah again. All she saw was her back, bare shoulders, and tattoos, but the other woman’s posture seemed tight.

“I knew it,” Iris said.