Grace sighed. “I keep meaning to invite her, but I seem to be forgetting everything lately.”

“Pregnancy brain,” Lacey said. “It’s a thing.”

Grace laughed.

I hunkered down in the chair. “Yeah, you should invite her.”

Cara narrowed her eyes at me.

I ignored her.

“Fiona, how are the wedding plans coming?” Lacey asked.

“Great,” Fiona said with a big smile. “We’re keeping it really simple, so there’s not a lot to do.”

“And you’re having it at Gram’s?” Lacey asked.

Fiona nodded. “We’re putting up a tent, so it’ll be pretty and also warm.”

“I’m still surprised you talked that broody man into a wedding,” Cara said. “I thought for sure he’d just whisk you off to Vegas or something.”

“We thought about that, actually,” Fiona said. “But getting married at Gram’s just feels so perfect. Evan’s really excited. You just can’t tell unless you know what to look for.”

Grace swiped a few tears from her cheeks. “I’m so happy for you.”

Fiona clasped her hands at her chest and her lower lip trembled. “I’m so happy, too.”

Cara eyed the two of them, then abruptly stood. “I love you both so much I could die, but I just started my period and there’s way too much emotion in here for me to cope with right now. Come on Gavin, let’s go drink.”

With the mood I was in, that sounded like an excellent idea.

She slipped on a wool trench coat and blew kisses at Fiona and Grace. “Goodnight, my lovely little sweat peas. Ladies, have a good week.”

Everyone said goodbye to Cara. I handed the ball of yarn back to Gram, said a few quick goodbyes, and followed her out to the parking lot.

“Caboose?” she asked.

“Works for me.”

“Should we drive?”

I shook my head and stuffed my hands in my coat pockets. The air had a bite to it, but I didn’t mind. “No, I can walk.”

It was only a few blocks to the Caboose, and streetlights lit the way. Even though the boot was awkward, it was nice to have two legs again.

There were only a handful of cars in the parking lot. Not surprising for a Monday night. I held the door for Cara and we went inside.

She picked a spot at the bar and I eased myself onto a stool.

Hank came over to take our orders. “What can I get you?”

“Two Heinekens and four shots of Jameson. Put it all on my tab.” She glanced at me. “I’m buying. Don’t argue.”

Normally I would have, but she had a glint in her eye that told me to keep my mouth shut. “Thanks. Shots, huh?”

“It’s been one of those days.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“With the way you were pouting at Stitch and Bitch, I figured.”

“I wasn’t pouting.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I was brooding. Not pouting.”

“Fair enough. You are a Bailey. Brooding must be in your genes.”

Hank brought over our beers and poured the shots.

Cara slid one over to me and raised her glass. “To brooding.”

“To brooding.” I lifted the shot to my lips and tossed it back. The whiskey burned going down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m no more dysfunctional than usual. Although my mother did call this afternoon. Hence the whiskey.”

“Phone call from your mom and you started your period. Brutal.”

“It really is. I can’t be expected to function under these conditions.”

“Sounds like you need another shot.” I slid the other two shot glasses closer.

“It’s what I’m here for.”

We both swallowed our second shots, the glasses clinking on the bar when we set them down. I blew out a breath while the burn ran through me. I was already feeling lighter, the whiskey hitting me fast.

“So what’s wrong with your mom?” I asked. “Or do you not want to talk about it.”

“It’s complicated. I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

I took a sip of my beer. “I can respect that.”

“What’s wrong with you? Or do you not want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Fair enough.”

We both got quiet, our attention wandering to the TV behind the bar. I drank my beer down fast, adding it to the whiskey in my stomach. Getting drunk sounded great right now. Anything to get rid of this shitty feeling in my chest.

A couple of shots later, or maybe it was a few… or five, I’d lost count, I was well into drunk. I wobbled on my stool. “Cara, are you a lesbian? Be honest.”

She laughed. “No, I’m not a lesbian.”

“But you’re like totally in love with Grace, right?”

“Yes.”

“So how does that work if you’re not a lesbian?”

“I don’t want her sexually. I like my orgasms to come from a man. But Grace is my person.”

“Thass pretty cool.” Shit, my speech was slurring. I slow blinked. “I think I’m drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk.” She brushed her hair back from her face and laughed a little. “I am too.”

“I have a confession.”

“Wait.” She put a hand on the bar to steady herself. “Okay, go.”

“I stole a cookie from Chief’s cookie jar.”

“I thought so.”

“I didn’t mean to. But it was the most delicious cookie in the world.”

“Of course it was. Someone said you couldn’t have it.”

“No, that’s not…” I slumped forward and put my forehead on the bar. Groaning, I lifted my head. “That’s not why.”

“Listen.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “You like her, right? And she likes you. So just be happy that you like each other, okay?”

“That’s the problem. I like her too much. But she’s… and I’m… and now she’s mad.”

“What’s her story? How’d she end up back here anyway?”

“She was dating her agent. Found out he’d been cheating on her.”

“What?” Her voice went flat and suddenly she seemed a lot more sober.

“Isn’t that bullshit? Who would cheat on Skylar? I don’t know what the fuck his problem was.”

“Who is he?”

I took another drink of my beer. Not that I needed it. “Cullen something.”

“He was her agent?”

“Yeah, you know, publishing deals and shit.”

Cara got out her phone and started typing something. “Do you know what he looks like?”

“I think so. Maybe? But I don’t know if I can remember right now.”

She held up her phone. “This him?”

I squinted to keep the image from going blurry. It didn’t help much. Too much fucking whiskey. But I recognized the douchey face. “Thass him.”

“Fucker,” she muttered, then hiccupped. “He’s so going down. Who’s the other woman?”

I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to think. “Another writer. Poppy? No. Penelope? No.”