“Look, I don’t care that people gossip, just that they’re lying about Marina. She doesn’t deserve it,” I say.

“Town sweetheart to Seagrove’s worst gold-digger in a month’s time,” Luke says with authority. “I agree. People are being harsh. Willow saw her at Seagrove Funeral Home—she was there for her grandfather’s arrangements.”

Mom and Elena simultaneously go, “How’s she doing?”

“She’s fine, thanks. The arrangements are made. She saw Marnie and told me she’s never seen a darker aura.”

“Why was Marina at the funeral home?” I gawk, my confusion thick.

Mom rolls her eyes. “She works there now.”

“Do you really not know anything that’s been going on?” Elena gawks.

“I text Marina every day. She hasn’t told me anything,” I say. But even as the words come out, I know she’s not the type to complain, and certainly not to me. My respect for Marina grows. Keeping troubles private is something I completely understand and admire—more people should do it.

But it also reminds me that she and I are still strangers. Holding her hand when there was no one else to do it is one thing. Letting me into her life is another. I get it. But I don’t like it.

Mom and Elena share a look before Mom explains, “Ashe and Marnie broke up. Rumor has it, Cora did it. Can you believe it? Marnie no longer works at Sunny’s. People say she was fired, but the Sullivans claim it was an amicable restructuring. Now, Marnie works for Liam, Wes’s brother, over at the funeral home.”

“Wait, she’s back at work? It’s too soon.” Everyone looks at me like I’ve just woken up from a coma. “The doctor said six weeks.”

“Marnie didn’t listen,” Mom says. “She hasn’t asked for any refills on her pain meds, either.”

“So, the rumor about her pill-popping addiction can be ruled out,” Elena notes.

I hate this. Everything about it makes me groan.

“Wait, did you say a funeral home?” I grunt. “Marina?”

“I know, right?” Elena grimaces. “Doesn’t suit Marnie.”

Damn right, it doesn’t. Not only that, it’s a fucking insult.

Luke takes their orders. Mom and Elena scrutinize me over their refilled wine glasses.

“Grady, what’s happened isn’t your fault,” Mom says, pointlessly.

“The Sullivans are awful,” Elena adds. “We already know that. Now, Marnie knows it, too.”

“She’s lost everything because of me.” Pissed, sad, and guilty, I push up from the table.

“No, Grady, don’t go yet,” Mom says. “Hang out with us. It’s your day off.”

“I have to go.”

“Well, be at the house tomorrow for game night, at least,” she presses, “and bring some chips.”

“I don’t do game night,” I say.