“Shit, I forgot.” As always, like she can hear my thoughts, Ainsley stalks toward the porch. I gulp a fair bit of coffee and straighten my posture.
“November.” Ainsley nods at me, and I notice David narrow his eyes behind her. She’s as put together as ever, with the exception of no makeup. Her puffy eyes prove she’s spent some time crying, but her gorgeous ensemble prevents me from feeling bad. It annoys me. Everything about her annoys me.
“It’s early, Ainsley. Bo’s asleep inside. If you want, when he wakes up I can te -”
“I’ll wait here,” she cuts me off and shows herself to the porch swing. I shrug, uninterested in another go ‘round with Ainsley Worthington.
An hour later, David’s gone to the funeral home and Regan steps outside, rubbing his arms like he’s cold, but it’s already over seventy degrees. Ainsley prances to his side and gives him a hug as if she knows who he is and what Rae meant to him. As if she has rights inside his grief. Regan’s a class act, however, and returns her condolences with some of his own. Ainsley has known Rae longer than any of us on the porch, after all.
“Is Bo up?” Ainsley asks Regan, her hand on the door. I roll my eyes; Josh catches me and grins.
“He’s in the bathroom, I think.” He shrugs and sits next to me, not giving her any more information.
Just as she turns the knob, Ainsley lets out a surprised gasp as Bo pulls the door the rest of the way open and walks barefoot onto the porch. He’s showered and changed his clothes from yesterday, now wearing baggy grey sweatpants that cling to life on his jutting hips, and no shirt. Ainsley lets out a cry and throws her arms around his neck. I look over my shoulder and see him pat her back while looking painfully at me. I stand and make my way down the stairs, needing a little space between me and the blonde pixie. It’s not the time for pettiness, and I need a breather.
“Ember, you’re not leaving, are you?” Bo’s voice takes on an exhausted panic.
“No,” I turn and smile, “just taking a little walk. I’ll be right back.” I lock eyes with Ainsley for a second before turning back down the driveway.
I turn left and head through a wooded part of the property, until I reach a small clearing that holds a hammock next to a still pond. I collapse on the hammock and beg my body to cry it out; it swings back and forth with each released wail, and rocks me to sleep.
*
“Ember.” Monica’s whisper pulls me from a deep sleep, and I have to squint the blinding sun away.
“How long have I been asleep?” I carefully balance my elbows on the hammock’s netting and swing my legs off the side.
“Like two hours, I guess. Bo was looking for you after Ainsley left. I’m so, so sorry, Ember.” Monica breaks into a full cry. This is the first time we’ve been alone. “Did you ever meet with Bo at Tarryn’s last night, or did this all happen before?”
My God, was this all just yesterday?
I fill Monica in with a timeline of my night before Bo comes through the trees.
“We’re going to take Regan home to get clothes and a good night sleep before the funeral tomorrow.” Monica stands up, brushing herself off. “Want me to bring you clothes?”
I look nervously to Bo, under Monica’s assumption that I’ll be staying here. I hope to.
“Bo, is it OK if—”
He nods and wraps his arms around me, silencing the rest of my sentence. Monica rubs my back, signaling her departure. Bo sweeps open the curtained branches of a weeping willow and rests his back against the tree; I follow and sit next to him.
“This spot is gorgeous, Bo. So peaceful.” An old habit takes over and I mindlessly rest my head on his shoulder.
“It’s Rae’s favorite...or was ...” I slide my head to his bare chest as he kisses the top of my head. Bo runs his thumb over the hump of my shoulder and slowly drags it across my collarbone. “Are you OK?”
I look up. “What do you mean, am I OK?”
Bo squares my shoulders in his hands. “Your collarbone never stuck out like this; you’ve lost a lot of weight, Ember.” He rolls his thumbs over my collarbone to accentuate his point.
“I’m fine, Bo.” I furrow my brow at his bizarre topic of choice given the circumstances.
He gives me a concerned once-over before welcoming me back into a one-armed embrace. I replace my head on his shoulder before he starts speaking in a distant tone, still tracing my shoulders with his thumbs.
“Did you call Adrian?”
“No.” I honestly haven’t thought about it, though I suppose someone ought to. As tired as I am, I’m actually hoping he heard it on the news.
“Why not?” Bo sounds surprised, and suddenly, it occurs to me.
“I don’t know,” I shrug, “I guess when he told me he never wanted to see me again, I assumed that included phone calls.” With my ear pressed against his warm skin, I feel Bo’s heart rate pick up.
“He said that to you?” I nod and shrug once more. I simply don’t care about Adrian Turner right now.