The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(76)

“I just can’t believe you both kept it from me, that’s all,” Mindy said, and then stilled. “Wait. Are you two still . . .”

“At this moment? I can tell you with one hundred percent honesty that we are not,” Brooke said tightly, and opened the fridge. She grabbed a peach and bit into it.

“You’re supposed to wash fruit first,” Mindy started, breaking off when Brooke just eyed her over the peach as she took another bite.

“Right.” Mindy said with a sigh. “God forbid anyone try to tell you what to do. Or even to make a suggestion.” She rose to check the oven, hating how pissy she felt. “Soon as these are done, I’m going upstairs to get ready for a birthday party for a little girl Millie goes to school with. The kids and Linc are meeting me there. Feel free to steal anything else of mine while I’m gone.”

Thirty minutes later, she was dressed and still angry. It made no sense, but she felt left out, and embarrassed about that. And mad about all of it. She walked out of the house to her car and found Brooke leaning up against it. “What are you doing?”

“Going with,” Brooke said.

“Why?”

“Do you want to be suspicious of my motives or grateful for the company?”

Mindy crossed her arms. “I’m going to stick with suspicious.”

“Probably smart,” Brooke said. “I’m going with because the Capriottis make excellent wine, and I could use some right now. It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”

And then suddenly there was a pang to go with the anger inside Mindy. She hated where she and Brooke were at, but had no idea how to break the barrier. She knew Brooke cared. Brooke had taken care of the kids, she’d had Mindy’s back when it mattered. But Mindy wished . . . she wished they understood each other more. But for now, if a need for wine was all they had in common, she’d take it.

They made a run to McDonald’s first because . . . well, hash browns and sausage biscuits were Mindy’s very secret passion. Almost as good as orgasms, but since she could hardly remember those, maybe hash browns were even better. She pulled up to the pay window and a teenage kid stuck his head out. “Mindy, right?”

“Yes,” Mindy said warily.

He thrust a bag at her. “A guy came through about half an hour ago and paid for your order. He said you were hot, and that you should have a nice day.”

Mindy turned to look at Brooke in shock.

“Something you want to tell me?” Brooke asked.

“It’s Linc. It’s got to be.”

Brooke gave her a long look.

“What?” Mindy asked defensively.

“That’s some serious relationship goals right there, Min.”

“Stop.”

“No, you stop. You should marry that man. Oh wait, you already did.”

“Yeah.” Mindy found a smile. “I know he’s amazing. I do. I just can’t seem to . . .”

“Find your happy?” Brooke asked, humor gone, and in its place was genuine concern.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I’m having a lot of trouble with that.”

“I get that. More than you know. And I also know it might be hard to hear, but a therapist could really help. Or maybe even meds. There’s no shame in that, Min.”

Mindy looked at her in surprise. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I saw a therapist and took anxiety meds for two years after the helicopter crash.”

“Oh, Brooke,” she murmured, her heart squeezing hard. “I wish—”

“No, it’s okay. I needed to be alone. I needed to process. And I did. I mean, I’m still the same Brooke, which means I’m often restless, and the OCD thing still flares up sometimes . . .”

Mindy bit her lower lip.

“Or a lot,” Brooke said with a rueful smile. “But therapy helped me with the anxiety and also with finding some happy. I’m just saying, it’s an option.”

“I know. But I think I’m okay,” Mindy said. “Really.”

“Okay, good. Because it seems to me Linc’s trying really hard, and I don’t know much, but I do know it’ll take both of you to make it happen.”

“I know,” Mindy said softly. “And we’re working on it.” And she’d work harder. If Brooke could come back from what she’d faced, Mindy could find her way back, too.

A few minutes later, they were at the gorgeous Capriotti winery. She’d just found Linc and the kids when she discovered a bigger problem than all her other ones: The theme of the party was clowns.

“Uh-oh,” Brooke said.

“What?” Linc asked.

“Your wife’s terrified of clowns.”

It was true. Mindy had frozen to the spot. She’d been about to thank Linc for the McDonald’s, but she couldn’t breathe. There were clown balloons. Clown posters. Clown games . . .

Brooke turned to Linc. “Remember in high school when they hired a clown troupe for an assembly and she threw up on the lead clown’s big red shoes?” She looked at Mindy. “You going to survive?”

“Who, me? Of course.” Mindy forced an easy shrug, but she was thinking meds would be great right about now. She managed a smile at Linc, who smiled back and then got pulled away by a parent they knew from school. She waited a beat, then turned to Brooke and hissed, “I’m totally not going to survive.”