But it was Patricia who gave it up. “Amy, it’s not your fault Astrid couldn’t keep Edward’s interest. Edward sleeping with you on the side was her fault. She practically drove you into his arms.”

Say what?

Astrid’s fingers squeezed mine. Amy was the woman Eddie had cheated with behind Astrid’s back?

“Jesus, this was years ago,” Michael said. “We hadn’t even met yet.”

Michael was fine with whatever sex Amy’d had before they met, even if it meant she’d been the “other woman.” Even if she’d done something so cruel to her own sister. That was completely fucked up. Maybe he was like this because he’d enjoyed Sandra the Hooker the night before. If so, he wasn’t one to throw stones.

Hell, everyone we’d met in Cutthroat, except maybe Kit and Donovan, was insane.

“Amy,” Astrid said.

Amy whipped around and glared at Astrid. Her chest was heaving. “What?”

“I’m done. You got your free cake. You got your man.” She pointed at Eddie, then Michael. “And your man. I’m leaving. You didn’t want me here anyway. But I’m sure as shit not sharing Thatcher.”

Astrid spun to face her mother. “You put my ex as best man in a wedding when you knew he fucked me over with the bride. You chose Eddie over me. My van’s a shame to you. My clothing is. My ability to see disappoints you. I’m out. Done. You know where I live. You know what I am. Show up or not. I don’t give a shit any longer. You can take that stupid gray dress and fuck off.”

Amy and Patricia had the same look on their faces. They weren’t taking her words to heart, they were just stunned that she stood up for herself. Told them to fuck off.

That was my girl. I couldn’t have been more proud of her. She swung and hit it right out of the fucking park.

“Keys,” Astrid said. “Thatcher, give me the keys to my van.”

She’d called them on their shit. Yet I knew they weren’t going to change.

“Now.”

I did, after pulling them from my shorts’ pocket.

Snatching them, she took off, heading across the field toward the parking lot, dropping her ball cap in the grass on the way. I looked at the group. At Michael for being prepared to marry a woman like Amy. At Patricia for being the worst mother ever. At Eddie, who was going to have a busted nose and two black eyes as best man tomorrow. Then at Amy, who was Queen Bitch.

I didn’t say a word, Astrid had said enough, only just jogged to catch up to her. Because the one thing that wasn’t fake was how I felt right now.

“Wait up!” I called.