Page 115 of Caught Up In You

“It looks like a scam,” I tell her.

“It’s from myparents,” she says. “They’re down in Boca visiting my aunt. I called my mom, but when she answered she was drunk.Drunk, Wyatt. I’m, like, freaking out. I looked up the numbers, and if this is real, my parents just wonfourteen million dollars.”

“Holy shit.”

“Seriously,” she gasps. “They’re supposed to come home next week, but now I have no idea what the hell is going on.”

“Whatever it is, it sounds like it’s going to be wild!” I tell her, patting her on the back. Then I sink back into Owen’s arms, my head pressed back into his chest, happy that my wild times are behind me.

Unless you count the rapidly stiffening erection in my boyfriend’s jeans. Feels like there are some wild times happeningliterallybehind me.

“You know, if your family is about to come into some cash, I know who you should talk to,” I tell her.

“Who?”

I point at the broody finance bro in the corner. Hazel is handing Dan a plate holding a comically large slice of bright green cake, and he’s looking at it like it might try to steal his money.

Carson’s cheeks flush.

“C’mon, don’t be scared, Carson! I’m sure he doesn’t bite.” I lean in and wink. “Unless you’re lucky.”

“Have you been drinking?” she asks.

“Just happy,” I reply, gazing up at Owen.

“Ugh, you guys are gross,” she grumbles, then stomps away, probably to find Grace and shove the text in her face.

“Are we gross?” I ask Owen.

“Well, we spent this morning making a mixtape of songs about sex and then seeing if I could make you come once for every track, so…maybe?”

It’s been a month since I found that box of tapes in Grace’s bookstore. (“Dog-Eared Books is now officially the site of the grand gesture—I should put that in an ad!” she told me when I talked to her about the scheme.) Since then, we’ve filled four more tapes. I have a feeling Owen is going to be ordering a new case of them before the year is out.

I’ve decided to join Romy for two weeks of her tour in the spring, and Owen will take a week of vacation to come along for half of it. When I return, Carson and I are going to look for an apartment together. Owen asked if I wanted to move in with him, but I worried it might be a little too soon. Therapy and medication are doing wonders for him, but healing is a long journey, especially when you’ve been dealing with anxiety for your whole life. I want him to keep focusing on that.

But I do use the key under the mat to slip into his bed most nights.

“Grammy’s incoming with the wipes!”

Libby flies through the crowd, a package of baby wipes held aloft. She pulls Eden from her high chair and begins to wipe her down.

“You know, this is called a whore’s bath,” Libby whispers with a wink.

“Mom!” Hazel cries. “Can we not?”

“In front of the baby or in front of your friends?” Libby asks innocently.

“In front ofanyone,” Hazel admonishes.

Things with Libby have improved a little. She still makes me want to roll my eyes most of the time, but I’m working on trying to see her less as a villain in my story and more as a character with flaws. Flaws she’s actively trying to overcome, I often have to remind myself, because her flashy clothes and garish makeup and sass mouth and just generalLibbynesssometimes make it easy to forget.

The doorbell rings, and Libby cries, “Who the hell is ringing the doorbell? This is a party!” Then she shouts, “Get on in here!”

I roll my eyes and answer the door, unprepared for the four men in suits and dark sunglasses standing on our stoop.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“We’re looking for Daniel McBride,” the one in front with the thick mustache says.

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