Page 138 of Story of My Life
“More like three times a day for me,” Good Shoes quipped. “But I’ve got four-year-old twin boys.”
“Can I just say you are so pretty? I mean, your pictures are great, of course, but seeing you in person? The hair. The eyeliner. The smile,” Ice Cubes crooned.
“You’re too sweet,” I said, feeling as if I’d been swept away in some kind of flash flood of goodwill.
“And don’t you worry about that turd of an ex-husband. We all saw his interview, and he came off smelling like someone desperate to prove how important he is,” Two Bottles said.
“If there’s anything we can do, Hazel Hart Stans are ready and willing to be activated,” Beanie said as they all continued to converge on me.
I didn’t know what to say, so I smiled instead as my eyes prickled with something that felt suspiciously like tears.
“Who’s got the best camera and the longest arm?” Good Shoes asked.
We took several selfies to ensure at least one where everyone had their eyes open, Good Shoes wasn’t midsentence, and Ice Cubes was satisfied with her smile.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Ice Cubes said. “I just…ugh! I was hoping to meet you because I wanted to tell you what your books meant to me. And now that you’re standing here, all I can think to say is you’re pretty.” She waved a hand in front of her misty blue eyes. “I should have written a damn letter.”
“Believe me, these daysprettygoes a long way with me,” I joked, now in danger of actually crying. “I really appreciate it.”
“You got Joan through her stroke. And Millie through her bed rest. And me through my divorce. You’re the reason we all met in the first place, and now we’re here on this beautiful night in this gorgeous lodge in this adorable town with you. Shit. Now I’m going to cry,” Beanie said.
“Oh no. If you go, I go,” I warned.
The tears happened. Happy ones. We hugged and took a few more pictures. I was just taking a hit of wine straight from the bottle with my new best friends when a manly throat clearing cut through our merriment.
“Everything okay?”
Cam, looking fifty shades of uncomfortable, stood a few feet away. There was a collective swoon before the titters started.
“That’s Hot Contractor number three,” Beanie whispered.
I cleared the emotion out of my throat. “Ladies, duty calls.”
“How do I get onthatduty roster?” Good Shoes said into her wineglass.
“You made my entire year. I’m so happy to meet you, and I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in Story Lake,” I said, clasping my hands at my heart. “I’m going to go take care of some town business.”
“Maybe you should take care of some personal business,” Two Bottles suggested through the side of her mouth, looking pointedly at Cam.
“Friends of yours?” Cam asked when I got to him.
“Kinda. Yeah,” I said with a half smile.
“You look good,” he said gruffly.
The warm flush that had begun with my readers morphed into something a little more fiery at Cam’s words. “Thanks. Darius picked me up, so I didn’t get all disgusting on the way here. On my bike. Because I don’t have a car.”
“Why are you babbling?”
“I’m not babbling.”
He flashed me a “yeah, okay, liar”look.
“Ugh. Fine. I’m babbling. You make me nervous when you’re looking at me and being all handsome,” I said, waving at his handsomeness.
“Good.”
“Good? You like making women nervous? Because that is serial killery, which is not an admirable trait in this day and age.”
