Delilah Green Doesn't Care(Bright Falls #1)(7)

Claire closed her eyes and breathed in slowly through her nose. Ever since Astrid had shocked even Iris into speechlessness a few months ago by announcing that she was marrying Spencer Hale, whom she’d barely dated for ninety days and with whom her best friends had only minimally interacted, Claire and Iris had been functioning on a constant low level of panic. He was handsome and rich and the only dentist in town and couldn’t seem to get through a meal without putting some ridiculous demand on Astrid.

Hand me the salt, would you, babe?

Ask the waiter to bring another beer, would you, babe?

You didn’t want the rest of your fries, did you, babe?

And what’s more, Astrid complied every single time, even though the fucking salt was right in front of his golden-boy face.

Iris and Claire kept saying they were going to talk to her about it, make a plan, but weeks turned into months, and they still hadn’t figured out how to explain to Astrid that the supposed love of her life was a total dickwad. Because he was the worst kind of dickwad, surreptitious and smiling. Half the time, Claire couldn’t put her finger on what irked her so much about the man, only that she felt like she was hanging out with a poisonous snake anytime she was in the same room with him, which wasn’t exactly a reason to tell Astrid to run for the hills. Besides, Astrid liked facts, numbers, and neither Claire nor Iris had any to give, just bad vibes they couldn’t shake.

“Your point?” Claire asked.

“My point is that the next couple weeks are going to suck, and there’s no way you’re going to find someone in Vivian’s Tearoom or at a spa at Blue Lily Vineyard.”

Claire balked. “Hey, some sexy stuff can happen at spas.”

“Not at the kind Astrid frequents.”

“You never know.”

Iris leaned forward. “So you’re telling me that you’d get busy with your masseuse if they were into it? Like”—she flicked her eyes down to Claire’s purportedly neglected nether regions and waggled her eyebrows—“busy.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Bullshit.”

Claire lifted her hands and let them drop. “Okay, fine, so I’d like to go on a date first. Sue me.”

“I know. You’re not wired for casual, and that’s okay. Hence, a phone number. I know you hate Tinder and Her and Salad Match.”

“I don’t hate them, I just—wait, Salad Match?”

“Find your salad soul mate. It’s a thing.”

“Oh my god.”

“Exactly.”

Claire rubbed her eyes under her glasses. The dating world was terrifying. Not that she’d ventured into it very much. She’d dipped a toe in with Nicole, and that was enough. “I’m raising a kid here, Ris.”

Iris’s eyes went soft, and she reached out and squeezed Claire’s hand. “I know. You’ve worked hard. You’ve sacrificed a lot, and you’ve got a great kid to show for it.”

Claire’s throat went a little thick at the emotion in her friend’s voice. “Ris—”

“Which is all the more reason to enjoy a nice non-self-induced orgasm.”

Claire smiled, and Iris got that gleam in her eyes, the same kind she got whenever she was working on a planner design or bought a brand-new set of Tombow markers. That never say die kind of sparkle.

“Okay.” Claire sat up straight, rolled her shoulders back and her neck from side to side like she was getting ready for a boxing match. “Okay, I can do this.”

“Hell yeah, you can.”

“I’m hot, right?”

“Hot and a badass bitch.”

She shook out her hands. “Just one number. How hard could it be?”

“Easy. Everyone in the whole damn room wants your number.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would.” Iris reached across the table and slapped Claire on the back, shouting, “Go get ’em, tiger,” over the din, and then sat back to sip on her drink with an excited grin on her face.

Claire turned in her chair and faced the lacquered bar, watching its activity for a few seconds. She looked over her shoulder at Iris. “One number.”

“One number. That’s it. A valid number. As in someone you actually find hot or interesting or whatever floats your mom boat these days.”

Claire stuck out her tongue at her friend.

“Save that for better uses, my love,” Iris said, winking.

Claire laughed. “Fine, fine.” She turned back around with a deep breath. Stella’s was busy tonight. It usually was on the weekends. Or any other night, for that matter. Bright Falls was charming, and she loved it, but with only a handful of shops, most of which closed at six p.m. on the dot, and just a few restaurants, the one bar in town was bound to be packed on a regular basis. She scanned the tables around the bar top, hoping to spot Hannah Li again. She’d definitely feel more comfortable approaching a woman or someone nonbinary. Since coming out as bi when she was a junior in high school, she’d always felt more drawn to other queer people or femmes. Josh being one of the few, albeit huge, exceptions. Still, she knew every queer woman in this town, and half of them were already married or partnered—including Iris, who’d figured out she was bi her sophomore year in college and would always and forever be more sister than potential partner—so the chances of someone single actually hanging out in Stella’s tonight was slim.