Page 141 of Fish out of Water
“Who cares?” Sylvia turned the phone Collette’s direction. “It’s all about the look, Jules.”
Clearly she didn’t plan on falling asleep eating fried rice over the thing.
Sylvia would probably have way more fun here than I ever did.
At least I hoped so.
“Did you run up here?” Grant was a little breathless as he came through the door. “I turned around and you were gone.”
“I was just coming to see how our girls were doing.” Sylvia sat down on the bed, bouncing a second. “What in the hell is this mattress?”
Grant stepped to one side as a mover came down the hall to grab one of the boxes I’d already packed from the office. Grant and I’d spent every night this week stacking, packing, and taping my life into boxes so I could move it once more.
But this move was nothing but happy.
And I wasn’t the only one happy about it.
Sylvia was taking over my lease and most of my furniture, moving in close to her new best friend Sharon Sherling.
There was no telling what in the hell they were going to get into, and I was pretty glad I wouldn’t be in the middle of it.
“That’s everything.” Collette closed the flaps on the final box, taping them down before writing across the top in black marker.
“Thank you so much for helping.” I grabbed her from the side, squeezing her shoulders as she finished writingclothingacross the box.
“Not like I had anything else going on.” Her lower lip pushed out a little.
I couldn’t blame her. If I hadn’t known Andrew better I would have expected something to come out of their hospital trip.
But I did know Andrew.
And he was as clueless as it came.
“You can always hang out with me.” Sylvia grinned at her. “I’m having a party next week. You should come.” She stood from the bed. “It’s BYOB.”
Grant came to my side, pulling me close. “I’m not bailing anyone out.”
Sylvia’s hands dropped to her hips. “Do I really look like the type of woman who goes around causing trouble?”
I laughed.
Grant nodded his head. “Absolutely you do.”
* * *
GRANT
“I can’t tell what’s happening.” Julia’s eyes were wide as she tried to follow what was happening on the screen. Her brows came together. “Did I just die?”
“You died about five minutes ago.”
She whipped off the headphones and fell back against the chair, groaning. “I’m terrible at this.”
She wasn’t wrong.
“You can’t be good at everything.”
Her eyes rolled my way. “But I wanted to be good at this.”
