Page 87 of Hopeless
“Seriously?” The guy gives Willa an annoyed look. “She’s a Jan—”
“She’s an Eaton. But further to that, she’s a human. A woman. And you, my friend, are an asshole.”
The man’s brows shoot up on his forehead. First Mary and now him. It never fails to impress me that in a small town big enough for me to not know everyone’s name, they all know mine.
The man still doesn’t move. To be fair, I think she’s shocked him into stillness.
Willa’s arm shoots out, pointing behind me. “Back of the bus, dickhead. Who’s your mama? I’d like to call her and ask how she raised you so I can file it away underwhat not to do.”
I glance down at the floor, hoping a hole might open beneath me. A rocky maw that swallows me whole. I’ve been kissed by Beau and now rescued by Willa, and this is all so fucking embarrassing that now might be the time to go.
But Willa just links her baby-less arm through mine and walks me ahead, cutting thedickheadoff the way he did me. Then she turns and grins at me conspiratorially, looking a little unhinged and a lot pleased with herself. “Good morning, Bailey.”
At first, I stare at her blankly, and then I blurt, “You’re nuts.”
“I know.” She grins wider. “Cade says it’s one of my best qualities. Well”—her head tilts in consideration—“and my tits.”
I can’t help it. All my tension bubbles over and I laugh.
“There we go. That’s what we like to hear, isn’t it, Emma?”
The little girl with a mop of dark hair claps her hands with excitement and it’s impossible not to smile.
“She’s adorable.”
“Yeah, thanks. I agree.” The expression on Willa’s face as she stares at her baby is pure wonder. Pure love. It pinches a spot in my chest.
The line moves, and so does Willa, arm still linked with mine as we step forward. “So, did Beau manage to fix your stuffed horse?”
I flush, thinking about the sweet gift he gave me last night. Or regifted? Upcycled? I don’t know what to call it. But he sewed it meticulously. When I crawled back into bed with Peaches, I squeezed her to my chest and took a huge inhale. She didn’t smell musty or like the garbage she no doubt spent some time next to in that black bag.
She smelled like Beau’s citronella soap. I’m almost positive he washed and dried her after restuffing and mending her.
She smelled like home.
I clear my throat, realizing I checked out for a minute. “Yeah, he did. She’s pretty much good as new. Just a cool badass scar and a wild story to tell.”
The smile that touches Willa’s lips now is soft, not the maniacal grin from before.
“Kinda like Beau.”
“I mean, he speaks in these superior dirty looks that he’s been giving me since we were kids. But then he turns around and does nice things for me. Like bringing Skylar Stone to perform at our wedding?”
Willa walked me all the way to the till, chatting my ear off, even though Summer and Sloane were already waiting at a table for her. I ordered my coffee, and she ordered me a mimosa. Now I’m sitting at a table by the window double fisting with them all on a Friday morning.
Life is a wild ride.
“Ford is so extra.” Summer laughs.
“Wait, so he’s not … insane like you?” Sloane smirks from behind her champagne glass, still dressed in a tank and tight shorts from dancing this morning.
“I resent that,” Willa volleys dryly.
I’m having some sort of out-of-body experience. It feels like I got invited to hang out with the cool kids at school. And now they’re sitting here, talking about personal stuff, razzing each other, like there’s nothing weird about me being here at all.
“But it’s true.” Willa sips her mimosa. “We are opposites. I think my mom’s body saved all the personality for me and gave all the nerdy, overachiever drive to Ford. He probably ran numbers and created business plans in the womb. If he ever meets someone, she’s going to have to speak bitch. Because he can be a real bitch. Sometimes I miss working for him. Driving him nuts was the best.”
That gets a round of chuckles from the table.
