What I Thought Was True(53)

“She and Nic pretty much like their parties private,” I say.

“It’s not as if you and Cass are draining the kegs all the time either.”

In the end, I settle for toilet paper, knock firmly on the bedroom door. Spence, apparently losing interest in the whole drama, turns on some basketball on the small TV.

“C’mon in.”

Cass has his back to me, pulling on well-worn jeans, but-toning the fly. How well they hug should be the last thing on my mind right about now. And yet. God.

I mop up and then keep scrubbing the nearly dry floor because I am now so embarrassed I don’t know what to say.

He’s also quiet and I can’t see his face and that makes me even more nervous, so I do that thing I do and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Were you wearing anything under there?”

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Chapter Nineteen


“Okay!” Viv calls, pulling over to the side of the road as I’m walking home from the Field House of Humiliation as the sun is finally sinking into the sea. She’s leaning over to whip open the passenger-side door. “Enough’s enough. Get in the car.”

“Is this a kidnapping?”

“Yes. In. Now.”

I jingle Fabio’s leash. “You sure?” Vivie knows all about Fab’s bad habits.

“I think he’s into marking wood and fabric. Not vinyl.

And besides, I just delivered twenty pounds of spicy mussels in garlic broth and chorizo in this car after getting stuck at the bridge for forty minutes beforehand. Fabio can’t make the stench much worse. Get in now before I have to get forceful.”

I slide in, studying her sideways. “Do you have a weapon?”

The brakes squeal as Viv backs up, too fast, then charges forward, even faster. “My weapon’s my driving, and we both know it. I’m going to drive around with you until you tell me what the hell is going on between you and Cassidy Somers. I thought he was going to throw you down on the pier.”

“It’s not like that. Jeez, Vivie, slow down.”

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“Gwen, it is like that. That guy looks at you as if he’d like to spread you on toast.”

I start laughing. “Toast? What?”

Vivien chuckles. “Okay. That was random. But I work in catering—we think in food. You know what I mean, though.”

She shoots me a squinty-eyed look. “Because you’re doing it right back at him, baby.”

“Well, he jumped in the ocean to rescue a stuffed animal.

Most guys would have shrugged. I was grateful. He was being nice.” I kick my feet up on the dashboard and the faulty lock on the glove compartment flips it open. At least eight speeding and overdue parking tickets tumble out onto the already clut-tered passenger seat floor.

Vivien shakes her head, short, tight wound pigtails whip-ping against her cheeks. “Nico keeps telling me and telling me he’s going to fix that thing.”

“You’d be better off fixing the tickets, pal.”

She shifts in her seat, staring me down. “Yeah, no changing the subject. Nice? First off, that wouldn’t be the first word I’d pick for the way you guys look at each other. Also, you’re deciding not to hate him now? When did that happen?” She lowers her voice to a dramatic pitch. “And exactly how? Details, Gwenners. You’re totally breaking the friend code.”

I see the opening I’ve been waiting for and pounce. “Maybe you better recite that code for me one more time.”

“I must be informed of any and all events in your life as they happen. Most particularly, we must dissect and analyze every single one of them to pieces. Especially when we’re talking 185

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about your love life. How else am I supposed to know when to come over with a bunch of Ben and Jerry’s and when to take you lingerie shopping?”

“Ugh,” I say. “Count me out of that one. I’d rather face a firing squad than the mirrors in Victoria’s Secret.”

“I hate it when you down yourself, Gwen. You’re changing the subject and missing the point. I’m your best friend. I must know all.”

I fold my arms. “Must you, now?”

“Totally.”

“Is that supposed to be mutual?”

“Of course. Since when haven’t I told you every little thing about me and Nic? He’s still pissed off that I told you about that thing he does with his thumbs.”

“Gah, I could have done without knowing that. Jesus, Vivie . . .” I play with a stray thread at the bottom of my cut-offs. “Ring shopping?”

Pink slowly floods her cheeks, then moves down to the base of her throat. “I was wanting to talk to you about that.”

“Well, why didn’t you? I’m right here! We see each other every day! You couldn’t have said, ‘Hey Gwen, pass me another brownie and FYI I’m engaged to your teenaged cousin’?”

Viv shifts lanes without signaling, prompting a violent round of honking from the car behind her. “I . . . thought you’d think it was weird.”

“Well, it is weird. But what’s weirder was you not saying anything! And Nic not saying anything!”

“What about you not saying anything? How long have you known, anyway?”