Page 70 of The Marriage Deal
“I miss yours, too.” I slide the cutting board of apples into a big bowl. “I’ll make sure I pop in tomorrow. But I’d like to point out that you have nothing warm in Tara’s Trinkets.”
“Not true. Ellie just brought me stock of her candles. And guess what?”
“What?”
“I’ve already set aside three of the rose scented ones for you.”
“I love you.”
She makes a noise that says, ‘damn right, you do’even though she speaks no words. “So,” she begins. “How are things with the man?”
I feel a spike of guilt for not having told Tara that things with Briggs aren’t actually real. She’s the kind of friend who’d storm herself over here to give Briggs an ear full of the what for. Where Madelyn can get behind the adventure of our rouse, Tara is the type to be more concerned with the aftereffects on my heart.
I love her for it, but that fact has me biting my tongue and swallowing my truth.
I tell her, “It’s good.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Good?”
“Yeah, good.”
“You moved in with the town’s most hated, but sexy as sin man, and you’re telling me it’s just good?”
“Well, I mean, he’s amazing, Tara. The town is wrong about him.”
“Really?”
“He cares about Sunset Falls. He cares about the future, the sustainability, and the people of this town.”
“And you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, how does he care about you?”
My breath hitches as I mix cinnamon, brown sugar, and melted butter into the peeled and sliced apples. “He cares about me as a man should care about a woman.”
There’s another pause, and then she says quietly, “Good. I’ve been worried about you since you came back home. So, good.”
Frick, I love my friends. “Have I told you I love you lately?”
“Like three minutes ago, but I’m greedy so I’ll take it.” A loud crash sounds in the background and I hear what sounds like a curse-filled prayer from Tara. “I thought I could slip away for a ten minute conversation with you, but nooooo.”
I laugh. “Are the boys okay?”
“I don’t hear any crying.” She sighs into the phone. “Is it bad that I just can’t wait until they’re a little older. Just a little older?”
“I think you need a spa day, hun. You’re sounding a little burnt out.”
“I have a four and six-year-old. They’re boys, so they fight like demons for fun. Of course, I’m burnt out.”
“Hence the spay day.”
“Every woman needs a spa day.” There’s another crash. Another sigh. “When are we booking?”
“I’ll get on it,” I promise.
I hear a scream echo over the line.
