Delilah Green Doesn't Care(Bright Falls #1)(35)

Claire turned to find both Iris and Grant staring at her. “What?”

“You’re into her,” Iris said.

“I am not.”

Iris waved her hand over Claire. “The dress, walking in with her. You like her.”

Claire tugged on one of the dress’s shoulder straps while Iris smiled triumphantly. She’d ordered the garment months ago from one of her favorite vintage clothing sites, drawn in by the way she knew it would make her hourglass figure look even curvier. The designer called it a wiggle dress, because you had to literally wiggle it on, and had named it “Vixen.” Claire wasn’t sure she’d ever have the occasion—or the courage—to wear it, but tonight seemed like a good chance. It was classy and sexy at the same time.

Not that she was going for sexy.

“I like this dress, Ris,” she said. “I wore it for me.”

Iris’s smile fell. “Honey, of course you did. I’m just saying—”

“And just because I’m being nice to someone and not acting like a total bitch doesn’t mean I’m into them.”

This time, Iris’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not—”

“Yeah, you sort of are,” Grant said.

“Hey,” Iris said, hitting him on the chest. He released an oof sound, capturing Iris’s hand and slipping his fingers between hers.

Iris let him, her expression growing pensive as she looked at Claire. “Okay, fine, I’m not a huge fan. Neither were you the last time I checked. She barely even spoke to Astrid growing up, or did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget,” Claire said, but she turned away, watching as Delilah wove through the crowd snapping pictures, drawing everyone’s gaze as she went.



* * *





DINNER WAS MOSTLY uneventful. Claire sat next to Iris near the end of the long table the caterers had set up in the backyard, tiki torches lighting the area, and ate her mushroom risotto and organic green bean salad while everyone in Isabel’s posh circle asked Astrid and Spencer about their honeymoon, where they were going to live, how many kids they were going to have.

Astrid answered it all with a smile, Spencer’s arm tight around her shoulder the entire time. He even ate his food like that, cutting into his lemon-pepper chicken with his fork one-handed. When Astrid deflected the kids question, however—“Oh, I don’t know, we’re not in any rush”—Spencer laughed long and loud, like Astrid was a stand-up comedian putting on a show, and said, “Three boys, as soon as we settle down in Seattle.”

Everyone oohed and aahed at this, as though the idea of Astrid popping out three white boys into this white-boy world was just the cutest. But Claire’s mind caught on the word Seattle way more than three boys.

She turned to Iris, her mouth open, but Iris looked just as confused, her eyes pinned on Astrid.

“What the fuck?” Iris whispered, but Astrid probably knew Iris well enough to know what she was mouthing in her direction. Their best friend’s face went crimson, a truly miserable expression settling on her features. She mouthed back, I’m sorry, which only meant it was all true.

“He’s taking her to Seattle?” Claire asked.

“I . . . I don’t know,” Iris said.

“Why wouldn’t she tell us?”

“Probably because she knew we’d freak the fuck out.”

“She hates Seattle,” Claire said. “The crowds, the grit mixing with all that rain. It’s her worst nightmare. She barely survived Berkeley during college.”

A chilled white wine had replaced the champagne once the meal started, and Claire slugged back the rest of her second glass. God, she was going to need a stronger liver to get through this wedding.

Seattle. It wasn’t that far away, about four hours by car, but still. Seattle wasn’t Bright Falls, and Bright Falls was where Astrid’s whole life was. Her business, her friends, her family.

“Completely odious,” Iris whispered next to her, and Claire didn’t have to ask what—or rather, who—she was talking about.

“Did we ever like him?” Claire asked. “Like, when Astrid first introduced us?”

“Hell no,” Iris said. “I mean, okay, he looks like a god with that hair and those biceps, so maybe we were a bit distracted by that at first. You know, beautiful people getting away with murder and all that.”

“God, I hope he’s not a murderer.”

Iris laughed. “I’m pretty sure all he’s actually guilty of is sitting on his ass with a Scotch and a cigar while Astrid vacuums the living room. In Seattle.”

Claire cracked a smile but continued to simmer. Ever since the engagement, she’d been wary about Spencer, but suddenly, it all seemed to be coming to a boil. Hearing Delilah, someone who didn’t even like Astrid, confirm that Spencer was a total jerk just made it all the more real. And Seattle? Taking her away to a city she hated? God only knew how long she’d been hiding that tidbit from her friends.

“We can’t let her marry him,” Claire said.

Iris froze with her mouth on her wineglass. “We . . . Say what now?”

Claire lowered her voice even more. “You know we can’t.”

Iris shook her head. “Hang on. I thought we were just going to talk to Astrid about Spencer. Let her know our concerns. Where’s this blow up the wedding plan coming from? You know Astrid is gonna Astrid.”