Rock Bottom Girl - Lucy Score Page 0,86

know what she’s getting into with the Weston clan?”

“Now, what’s the fun in warning anyone in advance? If memory serves, you didn’t even tell Rob you had two dads,” I mused.

She grinned. “Yeah. And he stuck, didn’t he?”

“Maybe a fifth kid will push him over the edge?” I teased.

“How about I go get my baby maker, and you introduce us to your very pretty lady friend?” she suggested.

“Fine. Just don’t get your fertility all over the two of us.”

45

Marley

Three months ago, if someone had suggested I’d be hanging out at a Culpepper bonfire enjoying myself, I would have called them a drunk and a dirty liar.

Yet here I was, slinging horseshoes at a barely visible stake plunked in the uneven pastureland.

Andrea, my new friend and part-time counselor, was looking cozy in a puffy jacket and headband that covered her ears. Mariah and Faith, my old friends, were bundled up against the fall chill reminiscing about back in the day.

Mercifully, no one had said a word about Homecoming. Yet.

“So you have how many kids?” I asked Faith.

“Three. They’re exhausting, and I feel like a failure every day,” she said chipperly.

“Preach, sister,” Mariah agreed. “I have two kids and work part-time, and I still can’t get a grocery list made or the Halloween costumes bought.”

“To bad moms!” They clinked beers. Andrea giggled.

I liked their honesty. There was no white-washing or one-upping. They weren’t trying to prove who was the best. And it felt refreshing.

“What about you, Marley? What’s life outside of Culpepper like?”

I could have told them lies. Could have spun real life into something that sounded exciting and respectable. But, damn it, I was tired of trying to paint a fucking picture.

“It’s busy. There’s never any time for anything but the absolute necessities. I’ve been meaning to go to the gym for six years now,” I confessed.

They laughed like I was doing a stand-up routine.

“Oh, you always were the funny one,” Faith sighed, wiping at the corner of her eyes.

“I was?” I asked. “I always thought I was the mousy, sad one, hiding in the corner waiting for someone to like her.”

“Nope. That was me,” Mariah insisted.

I blinked. Mariah had been artsy and smart and, to my recollection, rather popular.

“Uh, no way. I laid claim to Sad Mousy One,” Faith argued. She had been in every stage production Culpepper Junior/Senior High put on. And she made it to the semifinals in the state spelling bee when we were in the fifth grade.

“Guidance counselor secret,” Andrea said, leaning in. “Ninety percent of people remember high school as a miserable experience.”

“What about you, Disney princess? I bet you were prom queen and captain of the volleyball team,” I guessed.

Andrea snorted. “I had braces until I was nineteen and didn’t get breasts until I was twenty-one. And I was really into graphic novels. I got into the guidance counselor thing so I could tell kids like me that, usually, life after high school is a lot better.”

“Now, there’s someone who remembers high school fondly,” Mariah said, raising her cup in the direction of the fire.

Amie Jo strolled through the crowd, greeting people like a sash-wearing beauty contestant. She was wearing a pink parka and yet another pair of Uggs, also pink. She’d probably throw them out after an evening in a cold, muddy pasture and break out the next pair in her inventory, I guessed.

Travis was behind her. If Amie Jo’s outfit had a train, he’d be carrying it.

“She’s wearing fake eyelashes and hair extensions to a bonfire,” Faith observed with a head shake.

“I admire the effort, but I’d rather gouge my eyes out with bacon tongs than spend my free time locked in a bathroom in an endless search for perfection,” Mariah claimed.

“We only have one bathroom,” Faith laughed. “If I tied it up for an hour at a time, my husband would break down the door with the sports section in one hand and his Sudoku in the other.”

We laughed, and I turned my back on the picture-perfect Hostetters. They didn’t need any more attention.

I saw Jake coming. He had a pretty girl and a gangly redheaded man in tow.

“Marley Cicero, meet my cousin Adeline O’Connell and her husband, Rob,” Jake said, taking my empty cup and handing me a fresh one. “Adeline? Rob? This is my girlfriend, Marley.”

I felt my cheeks warm at the “girlfriend” introduction. I liked having that designation with Jake. I liked being attached to him in that way. And, if I were continuing with the whole honesty

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