“Oh, Piper.” Hannah shook her head. “You are so fucked.”
“No.” Piper threw her shoulders back. “No, I escaped without too much damage. He got me to admit we’re more than friends, but there was minimal cuddling and we have no plans to see each other again. I’ll just avoid him for a while.”
Hannah lunged to her feet and turned on Piper. “What are you scared of?”
Piper snorted. “I’m not scared.”
And she wasn’t. Was she? This constant weight in her belly was totally normal. As was the certainty that Brendan would eventually realize there were a thousand other girls just like Piper Bellinger; she was definitely not the kind of girl for whom a man kept a ring on for seven years, that’s for sure!
She was just an exotic bird in this small, uneventful town, and he’d realize that eventually.
Or he wouldn’t.
That was even more terrifying.
What if his feelings for her were actually genuine? She couldn’t fight her own much longer. They were getting worse by the day. She’d driven like a bat out of hell to the hospital, already half in mourning. Sick with it. And the joy when he’d arrived, hale and hearty. My God, she was almost exhausted thinking about the gymnastics her heart had done.
If these feelings got deeper and deeper on both sides . . . then what?
She stayed in Westport?
“Ha!”
Hannah uncapped her coffee and took a long swig, swallowing. “You realize you’re having a conversation inside your own head, right? I can’t hear it.”
“I’m not staying here,” Piper breathed, her heart feathering in her throat. “He can’t make me.” She yanked her phone out of her pocket, tapping until she arrived at Instagram, scanning her colorful feed. These pictures and the effortless lifestyle they represented seemed almost foreign now—trite—and that was scary. Did it mean she was actually considering a new path? One she didn’t document for the sake of adoration, albeit phony? Her daily life in Westport was fulfilling in a way she never expected, but she was still an outsider here. In LA, her fit was seamless, at least outwardly. She was good at being Piper Bellinger, socialite. Whether Piper could be a fixture in Westport remained to be seen.
She held up her phone, facing the stream of pictures toward Hannah. “For better or worse, this girl is who I am, right? I’m getting so far away from this Piper. So fast.”
“Okay,” Hannah said slowly. “Does Brendan make you feel like you need to change?”
Piper thought about it. “No. He even called my pussy high maintenance, like in a good way. I think he likes me like this. It’s horrible.”
“Yeah, it sounds like the worst. What is the real problem, Piper?”
Piper exploded. “Hannah, I was scared shitless last night!”
Her sister nodded, sobering. “I know.”
“And he’s not even my boyfriend.”
“Yet.”
“Rude.” She brandished her phone. “This girl is not . . . strong enough. To worry like this all the time. To love someone and lose them, like Mom and Opal lost Henry. I’m not cut from that cloth, Hannah. I go to fucking parties and push bathing suit brands. I don’t know who I am in Westport.”
Hannah closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Piper. “Wow. A vaginal orgasm and a psychological breakthrough in the same day. You must be tapped.”
“I am. I’m exhausted.” She returned Hannah’s hug, dropping her forehead unceremoniously into her sister’s neck. She thought of Mick’s face when he saw her holding Brendan’s hand and cringed inwardly. Honestly, she wasn’t even ready to tell Hannah about that moment. How low she’d felt. Not necessarily a home-wrecker, but . . . an interloper. An outsider. Who does this LA party girl think she is, coming in here and trying to fill the shoes of a born-and-bred fisherman’s wife?
Piper’s phone dinged.
Who was that?
It couldn’t be Brendan. He’d left his phone on the boat. And none of her friends had reached out with so much as a hello since she’d left the Bel-Air zip code.
She held up the screen, and a smile bloomed across her face. “Oh, this is excellent news.”
Hannah dropped her arms away from Piper’s neck. “What is it?”
“It’s Friday night and our grandmother is finally ready to party.”
* * *
Never one to take partying lightly, Piper wasted no time.
She showered, coiffed until her hair looked presentable, carefully applied her makeup, and ventured purposefully toward the harbor with a garment bag containing a selection of dresses, including one for herself. Opal was petite, and with a little last-minute stitching, Piper would have her looking like a boss bitch in no time.
The second Opal opened the door—wearing a seriously cute lavender shortie robe—Piper could tell she was having second thoughts. “Nope.” Piper cut her off with a kiss, right on the mouth. “Everyone gets pre-party jitters, Opal. You hear me? Everyone. But we don’t let that stop us, do we? No. We persevere. And we get drunk until we feel nothing.”