Her phone buzzed again. She moved to shove it far away from her, not wanting any more bad news, and then saw the name on the screen: Morgan. The text notification cast its harsh glow over her arm.

MD: 16 Bay Road. White farmhouse. 6 PM Sunday. You really don’t need to bring anything.

Her heart ached a little less at the words.

ER: Not even your shop vac?

The bouncing dots that indicated Morgan was typing further suppressed her dark mood.

MD: Keep it for now. Might be more rabid dust bunnies.

Should she respond?

She hesitated, then typed: Do dust lagomorphs transmit rabies?

She deleted the text. Lagomorphs was a vet word, and she wasn’t ready to tell Morgan about that part of her life. Not that she’d be able to avoid it much longer without lying. “What do you do for a living” was one of those questions that tended to come up between strangers, and this party would be full of them.

ER: These are more like dust bears.

MD: Do you need a chainsaw?

ER: How about something with a longer handle.

MD: Weed whacker?

ER: That works. Metal blade, though. Not string.

MD: Want it Saturday or do you need it sooner?

Her heart thudded in her chest. Morgan was joking, but she couldn’t help wondering what might happen if she asked Morgan to come over now. Would she? Or would she think Emilia was crazy? Or, and she tried to push the thought away, did she only want Morgan to come over because of what Anna Maria had just told her about Hannah and Skylar?

ER: I made a barricade out of old fly fishing rods. Think I can hold out.

MD: Let me know if you need reinforcements.

ER: Will do.

She set the phone down on the armrest and watched the colors bleed into the trees as night fell. Perhaps she should contact her therapist. And if she tells you to steer clear of Morgan Donovan? Or, worse, Shanti might ask her how she felt about the situation, and she didn’t have any answers. Her attraction was obvious; everything else lay beneath murky waters. If only Morgan wasn’t a vet. If only she hadn’t known Emilia’s father, or docked her boat at the same wharf, or been the first girl Emilia had crushed on. If they’d met at a bar—not that Emilia went to many bars—she might have kept the rest of her life separate. One-night stands were not something she did either, though. She needed friends, not complications, and she was an adult. She could control herself, no matter how much her body wanted Morgan.

I’ll bring cookies, she decided. Everyone liked cookies.

Her phone buzzed for the third time. She grabbed for it, but her heart fell when she saw the ID. Anna Maria again.

AM: Miss you. Children are tyrants.

ER: Miss you too. <3 u and the girls.

Anna Maria sent a picture of Emilia’s nieces tucked into their beds. Ruby had her thumb in her mouth, and April had snuggled up to the stuffed lion Emilia had given her. Her disappointment that it hadn’t been Morgan melted into a wash of affection for her nieces.