“Correction: I don’t have to go onstage for the pageant, but I’m front and center at Little Fishies in the Bay,” Emma shot back. “And I’ll tell you what, you don’t want to be wearing anything that shows your midriff when you’re chasing around a bunch of hyped-up five-year-olds. I still have nightmares of Nate Calloway using my arm as a tissue when he had that snot attack onstage last year. I mean, I’m a kindergarten teacher, and I’ve seen a lot, but wowzer. I’ve never seen that much slime come out of a kid before. Or anyone, really.”

Sloane cringed as she shimmied out of her bougie costume. A feather fell off in the process. She panicked that she’d broken it and might have to buy it as a consequence. So she stuffed it in her purse to hide the evidence.

“Well, still, I wish I could be a sailor instead,” she said after a moment. “Whatever talent we end up going with will probably be way easier if I had on pants. That weren’t see-through.”

“Then why not be a sailor? Nothing is stopping you. It’s not like the pageant has rules. You can go as a sailor or pirate or whatever and get Brady to go as a merman. The judges would eat that up. Actually, Brady shirtless would probably get you bonus points.”

Emma said Brady’s name twice, but Sloane had stalled out at the first mention. There she was, talking about the pageant, trying on outfits for it, and pretending nothing was wrong. That she and that very same man hadn’t had a yelling match the night before. One that had ended with her declaring that it would be better for everyone if they ended.

And Brady agreeing before doing a fantastic disappearing act.

Anger and hurt and guilt had tangoed through her conscience until the next morning, when she’d reached out to one of the only people in the world who could make life better. It was just a matter of good fortune that Emma had a substitute filling in for her so she could finish off her festival checklist in the city. Tagging along had been a temporary but soothing balm for the soul. But now that balm wasn’t doing jack. Just like the aloe lotion Sloane had slathered on after her shower.

The sunburn wasn’t as bad as she had feared, but she didn’t want to be peeling and flaking while onstage in front of most of Arbor Bay.

That is, if she was even going.

If she and Brady were even going.