I can’t tell if I’m relieved or annoyed. Obviously, I’m grateful for the reprieve, but Cam has to know it’s temporary at best. I pull out my phone. Two missed calls from Lyle. I really need to get used to turning the ringer on again. I scroll to Cameron’s phone number and hit Call.

He answers right away. “Hello?”

“Hey, Cam, is Hollywood Satan there with you?”

Cameron snorts. “Yeah.”

I release a slow breath and can hear Lyle asking about me over the sound of clattering dishes.

“Your choice,” Cameron says softly.

“I’d rather get it over with.”

“Want to meet us? We’re at my friend’s bar in Le Croix. It’s called Lake Shore Distillery.”

“Will you stay?” I ask, feeling extra vulnerable. I don’t want to need a bodyguard, but Cameron has always been this perfect buffer for the inane fuckery of Lyle and me together.

“Of course.”

“Okay. I need to get changed. I’ll be there in forty minutes.” I hang up and my dad is getting to his feet with a groan.

“You sure about this, kid?”

“Thanks, but yeah. I can do this. He’s on my turf, Dad. And he needs me this time.” I kiss his scruffy cheek and grab my coat. “Close up behind me,” I say.

A few minutes later, I’ve crossed the yard to my farmhouse and am scrambling up the stairs inside. I don’t have time for a shower, but I yank my ponytail out and spritz some pretty-smelling dry shampoo at my roots, shaking it all out. I turn on the flat iron and walk into my closet, looking for something to wear. I don’t bother second-guessing and reach for a flattering pair of dark-wash skinny jeans and a white boho tunic. I kick off my work boots and get changed, finishing everything off with a pair of coral-colored Tieks and matching dangling coral earrings.

“Alexa, call Lorelai on speaker.”

A moment later, my best friend answers. “Hello?”

“Where are you right now?”

“Specifically? My kitchen, staring at my pantry. Tell me you have a better alternative than gluten-free instant oatmeal.”

I grin at my reflection and twist a long lock through my flat iron.

“Lyle is in town.”

“Fucker.”

I snort, kind of loving how that’s everyone’s first response to his name. “Right. Cameron’s got him at some distillery in Le Croix and I’m going to meet them. Can you be ready in ten? I’ll swing by. Please,” I add, not even trying to keep the pleading from my voice.

“Obviously. See you.”