Page 45 of Beautiful Crazy
“What time is Georgia bringing Sutton home?” Charley asks as she hands me the glass of sweet tea, taking a seat on the other end of the couch.
“Not until closer to bedtime.”
My sister took Sutton yesterday after school got out because he had a game this morning. Everybody has been such a huge help when it comes to him, and it makes my throat tighten up even thinking about it.
Especially Everett.
The morning after my surgery, Grace told me that he took Sutton home so he could sleep in his own bed, then brought him to school the next morning. Sutton was more than a little excited to tell me later that afternoon how his teacher packed his lunch for him, and how he felt so cool riding with him in his car.
It was something he didn’t have to do, but he did, and it’s so sweet. Just because we’re neighbors—and newfound friends with benefits—doesn’t mean he owes me anything, especially something as huge as taking care of my child.
“So, fill me in on the gossip I’ve missed this week,” I say to Charley, wanting to get my mind off everything.
A smirk splits her face as she sets her drink down on thecoffee table. “I’m so glad you asked because it’s surprisingly been a crazy week.”
“Oooh, do tell.”
“So, you know Blaine, the guy who owns the general store on Main Street?” I nod. “Well, he announced earlier this week that he’s going to start closing the store on Wednesdays.”
“What for?”
“I’m not sure.” She shrugs. “But people areoutraged.”
“Really?”
Charley laughs. “Yes! It’s all I’ve heard about all week. The Richardsons are staying at the inn this week while their floors are being redone at their place, and they came up to the front counter every single day to bitch about it to me. Then, I was grabbing a coffee and some lunch at The Morning Vibe yesterday afternoon, and I overheard, no exaggeration, three different groups of people complaining about it while I was waiting for my order.”
My brows rise. “Damn, didn’t realize the general store was such a hot spot on Wednesdays.”
“Neither did I.” Chuckling, she adds, “But the more you know.”
After she adjusts the messy bun on top of her head, Charley takes a sip of her wine. She has a style that is all her own, and I freaking love it. Fingers garnished with silver rings, a barbell through her tongue—and other, more intimate areas—long, sharp acrylics that resemble claws rather than nails, and the dark eye makeup gives very much alt-girl vibes. But she also loves to dress up with the bubblegum pinks and the frills and bows too, like Grace. She remindsme of a Goth Barbie. You never know which side of the spectrum you’re going to get.
She is so unapologetically herself, and she doesn’t give a damn what anybody thinks about it. Not to mention, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, with her stormy gray eyes, straight white teeth, and naturally full lips.
“So, what else is new?” I ask. “Grace mentioned a date.”
I can’t help but smirk when she rolls her eyes. “Thanks, Grace!” she calls out, and because, of course, she’s listening in on our conversation, Grace giggles from the kitchen. “It wasn’t a date, per se,” Charley explains. “He’s one of the new kitchen guys at work. We went out for drinks Wednesday after work.”
“Aaah,” I hum, a grin spreading. “Fraternizing with co-workers, are we? Love it. Tell me all about it.”
“His name is Trey, and he seems pretty cool. We’re into the same type of music. He just moved to town a few weeks ago, so he doesn’t really know anybody.”
“How old is he?”
Face scrunching up, she takes another long sip from her wine before she says, “Twenty-two.”
“Oh, we’re channeling our inner Georgia, I see.” I laugh as she rolls her eyes. Charley is thirty-four like I am, and my sister, who is a few years older, has a tendency to find men who are much younger. She’s our resident cougar but, apparently, Charley is taking some notes from Georgia’s book.
“Fuck off,” Charley spits out, chuckling. “I doubt it’ll go anywhere further than it is, but he’s at least fun to hang out with.”
“Did y’all hook up?” I ask, curiosity piqued.
Her cheeks pinken as a smile curls her lips. “We may have.”
“Wait, what!” Grace blurts out from the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me that, you bitch!”
Laughter bubbles out of me that quickly turns into a groan as an ache stabs me in the stomach. “Ow, fuck. Quit making me laugh,” I tease.