“Ugh. Is it though? He kissed me and then pulled away and said he shouldn’t have done that. He apologized. I’m trying not to be offended.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

I blink at her. “Talking?”

“Yes. You know . . . where you use your mouth to create words that describe what’s going through your head.”

“Sounds weird. Sounds awkward. Don’t like it. Not approved by me.”

She gives me a disapproving look. I imagine it’s one she’ll use on her future children.

“Why can’t we just have sex for the next little bit and then high-five each other at the end?”

“And spend the rest of your lives running into each other because of me and Rhett?”

I turn my nose up. “We’re adults. I’m head over heels for Luke. Do you know how cool that kid is? It’ll be fine.”

Summer stares wistfully out over the field, spinning the engagement ring on her finger. “Adults who won’t talk to each other.”

She says it kindly enough but I know it’s a dig. And I know she’s right. I know I fly by the seat of my pants with little regard for where I’m going. Planning stresses me out.

That’s why go with the flow is my motto.

Too many ways to fail. Too many ways to fall short. And in a family of wildly successful people, I’d rather be the flighty wildcard than the failure.

“You coming to the rodeo next weekend?” I change the subject entirely, actively sidestepping the thoughts bubbling up inside me.

She nods. “Of course. You?”

“Yeah. I told Cade I’d take care of Luke that day. We’ll go watch him.”

“Working the weekends, huh?”

I shrug. “Spending time with Luke doesn’t really feel like work.”

In fact, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

I should have known when Luke asked, “What does it feel like when you get carsick?” that something was wrong.

Instead, I kept bobbing my head to my favorite Broken Bells song and said, “Just like nauseous, buddy.”

We had a fun day at the spray park in town—our new go-to spot on hot days. He gets to see a bunch of friends from school, and I get to mean mug the psychopath birthday boy and his mom who will forever live on in my head as Bunny.

They stay away, looking at me like I’m an escaped convict, which works just fine for me.

I even spend time together with a couple of moms that I actually like. Ones with nice kids and good senses of humor. I feel relieved that not all the moms in this town are Bunnies.

But I’m not feeling relieved anymore.

Because Luke just sprayed vomit all over the back of my passenger’s side seat.