I really was. A graceful receiver of gifts, help, or affection I was not. I would’ve made a terrible trophy wife, thanks to those hang-ups.
And my bad table manners.
And my dick.
My eyes traveled down Bree’s outfit, surprised she wasn’t wearing her emotional-support cardigan. “New shirt?”
She glanced down fondly at her sleeveless black tank top. If I weren’t used to her showing such affection for inanimate objects, clothes specifically, I’d probably be worried about thatlook. “Liem made me one of his modified Ari’s shirts. I bet he’d make one for you, too, if you’re that jealous.”
The front of the tank had the bubblegum-pink-and-teal Dawn’s Diner logo splashed across the chest but with a hand-drawn logo for the Lott family restaurant—Ari’s, which had no affiliation with Dawn’s—superimposed on it. Even if Bree hadn’t told me that it was his design, I’d have known LL’s signature art style anywhere.
Decisive. Layered. Unapologetic.
Cute.
“It is cute,” I admitted, going with the simplest of those descriptors.
She nodded. “It is.”
“Too bad about your face, though.”
“Too bad about your personality.”
I cocked a brow. “Which one?”
We shared a smile.
“Okay, Cher, you win this one. Wanna make a date to go to Willows and hash it all out this weekend?”
The arena for that fight several months back had been Fortuna’s arcade, which was a nostalgic location for us but was now firmly blacklisted ever since Bree epically quit her job at Fortuna. But Willows hadn’t wronged us,andits arcade was better, anyway, even if that casino happened to have the worst buffet on the Coast. Like, god-awful. But that just meant we’d have to make plans to eat somewhere else beforehand.
“Or we could be spontaneous and hash this out now. We still have about thirty minutes left until we make it back to Bay Springs. Which reminds me.” Her gray eyes flicked to me. “Where am I taking you? Last we spoke, you hadn’t decided if you were going to stay with your dad or not. You know our couch is available to you. I’ll even let you borrow a blankie.”
I was eleven and still lived with my mom in Louisiana when I first met Bree. Mom was a surgeon and had been called in for an emergency surgery and didn’t have anywhere to send me. It was a holiday week, and I guess she felt bad enough to call my dad instead of leaving me at home. Which was how I’d ended up carted across the state line to stay with him.
Dad also had nowhere to send me.
I was too old for the casino’s daycare, and of course, he didn’t think to take any days off for my visit. Even though it was last minute, considering I hadn’t seen him in months, I thought he might’ve at least taken one sick day.
Instead, he set me up for a play date with the granddaughter of one of Fortuna’s most prolific gamblers, Miss Barb.
Young Bree had taken one look at me with my forlorn attitude, puka shell necklace, and flippy hair, and had decided to keep me. Even at such a young age, she’d been more nurturing than either of my parents had ever been. And still was, which was why she was offering me the couch of the cottage she rented with both Lott brothers, both of whom had become close with Bree during my absence.
In Vinh’s case, very close. Grossly close.
“I don’t wanna crowd y’all.”
Bree took the next exit and pulled into a fast-food drive-thru. “You’re getting hangry. Do you want Coke or sweet tea?”
My stomach growled at the mention of sustenance. “Sweet tea, please.”
It took years of painful conditioning for me to accept things from my best friend without making a fuss, and she was smug as shit about it.
She ordered—and paid for— a snack and drink for us both, and we were back on the road within minutes, the small space smelling strongly of French fries.
“So…,” she prompted, flashing me a coaxing look.
I sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
