Page 47 of Hot Shot

A snort finally interrupts enough that I suck in a breath that sounds like a donkey. My abs burn, so I lay flat on my back and laugh at the ceiling.

“Once,” I start, breaking into occasional giggles, “Davis and I were in Bora Bora, and we went scuba diving. He was treading water, and when I looked underwater, his little feet were paddling around in circles and I can’t?—”

Jessa’s laughing so hard she’s crying. After a minute, she squeaks out, “In college, during a beer pong game, I once saw Henry chase a ping pong ball across the room. But he was crouched down with his hands out and kept missing it.” She’s barely making noise by the end. When she gets up to demonstrate, we lose it.

“That. I’m imagining that,” I say when we catch our breath. She’s lying next to me panting, her hands on her stomach. “Thank you.”

Her head lolls to look at me as she reaches for my hand. “Always, darling. It’s going to be alright. What is it they say?It all comes out in the wash.All you have to do is your best.”

Our fingers are threaded together. “That makes me feel a lot better,” I admit, blinking back tears. “That, and the image of Wilder chasing a ping pong ball.”

I’m so much lighter when we laugh again, thankful for Jessa. Thankful for a plan.

Praying that it works.

CHAPTER 17

PRACTICALLY PERFECT

CASS

Ican’t stop fussing with the canopy over Cricket’s bed.

The opening of peach chiffon won’t center in the full-sized bed and it’s driving me nuts. But the twinkle lights inside are twinkling, and vines dotted with coral roses hang from the wooden hoop, giving a Sleeping Beauty vibe that I’m deadass envious of. Giving up on the canopy, I rearrange the throw pillows on the bed and tug at the corner near the foot to flatten out a wrinkle, chewing on my bottom lip.

The rug matches impeccably. The bookshelf Wilder put together is stuffed with books—some of her favorites that were lost in the fire, thanks to a list from Patty—and some cute little trinkets. Cricket’s sage green dresser is empty, her little desk set up with pencils and crayons and paper and a light. I have nightlights. Pretty art. A mirror. I even framed a photo of her and her mom, giving it a home on her nightstand.

I just want it to be everything for her, a safe, cozy little nest where she can escape. I want to make her comfortable and happy and to earn her trust. I want to help make a space for Cricket andWilder to get to know each other. I only hope it helps, that it’s enough.

What’s between Wilder and I isn’t real, but this part? This part is so real, it’s scary. It feels like everything hinges on tonight

It marks the beginning of everything.

The thought is so daunting, my stomach twists.

“It’s perfect, Cass,” Wilder says.

I sigh, my eyes still on the room. “I can’t get the canopy to open straight.”

He looks it over, moving to the end of the bed. “It’s only, like, an inch or two off. Nobody’ll know.”

“I’ll know.”

His eyes are warm, the picture of calm. “She’s gonna love it.”

“Aren’t you nervous?”

“Terrified.”

“How come you don’t look it?”

“Years of practice.”

It’s my turn to chuckle, and I relax a little. “It didn’t turn out half bad, did it?”

Wilder scans the room shaking his head in wonder. “I never could have done this on my own, Cass. You thought of everything.” He picks up the picture of Cricket and Ashley, his face touched with some emotion I can’t quite place. Longing, maybe. A far away sadness.

“Did you love her?” I ask quietly.

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