“Very funny.” Emilia bumped Morgan with her shoulder. “Potholes. Good thing I have a friend with a truck.”

It took Morgan a second to realize Emilia meant her. Friend. The word woke her out of the buzz she’d allowed to cloud her judgment. She took a step back as she spoke. “Anytime you need it, holler. Say hi to Nell for me.”

“I will. See you around, Morgan.” Emilia slid into her car and shot Morgan a smile that erased any remaining hope Morgan had harbored of getting much sleep.

Chapter Eight

Anna Maria’s text interrupted her afternoon sanding session two days later.

AM: Call me.

She put the phone on speaker as she stripped the mask off her face and settled onto the porch.

“You okay?” she asked when Anna Maria picked up.

“I am. You are not.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You got tagged in some photos. Are those your new friends?”

“You know I haven’t been on social media. Why, am I drooling or something?”

Anna Maria snorted into the phone. “Basically.”

“What?”

“Check your Instagram.”

“No.” Instagram was full of reminders of the life she’d stepped out of, and she had no desire to go anywhere near the magenta icon on her phone.

“Just do it.”

Emilia clicked the icon. Avoiding looking at any posts from friends and former colleagues—though there was a very cute greyhound she double-tapped—she scrolled to her most recent tagged posts. Leave it to Anna Maria to stalk her regularly. Lillian, it appeared, had found her, too, and she’d posted a few photos from Angie’s party. Morgan and Emilia stood in the back row in the first, and Morgan’s grin made her stomach flip. She inhaled sharply at the second photo. The fact that Angie’s eyes were closed and Stevie was making the face Lillian had told her not to pull made her suspect Lillian had posted it as a joke, but the real joke had been on her. Morgan’s face was turned slightly toward her—she remembered whispering something—and the look in her eyes could only be described as smoldering. Then there was her own face: lips twisted in a half smile, eyes glancing up at Morgan through her lashes, every visible inch of her radiating fuck me.

“I’m assuming you forgot to mention your new friend was totally fuckable because you didn’t want to offend my delicate sensibilities.”

“She’s not—”

“Totally fuckable? Yeah, okay.”

“Anna.”

“Emilia.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Honey, if any of my friends looked at me that way my husband would kill them.”

“Mark? He’s harmless.”

“Even Mark. Want to tell me what’s going on, Em?”

“Nothing is going on.”

“Do you want something to be going on? Because she does.”

“It’s not like that.” Emilia stared at the porch roof. “Don’t you have kids to boss around now instead of me?”

“I’m living vicariously through you. Trying to get laid with toddlers in the house is impossible.”

“You must be so disappointed in me.”

“You have no idea. But in all seriousness, are you okay?”