Page 97 of What's in a Kiss?

“Such as—”

“If I could get Masha to listen to me. If I could get her to understand.”

Fenny nods. “Then you could keep the pentagasmandyour best friend.”

“While I work on getting Lorena back, too.”

“Two out of three ain’t bad,” Fenny says and pours the last of our chardonnay into my glass.

“But... how?” I ask, swirling my wine, lost in contemplation.

“Masha just got back from her honeymoon this afternoon,” Fenny offers, taking out her phone and texting. “Let me see what I can do.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Riding home on theWet Dreamthe next morning, everyone’s hungover, including me. The chill in the air and overcast sky has me focused on one scenario: double espresso in the hot tub on the deck. Gram Parsons and I slip into the head so I can change into my black bikini. I grab a beach towel and a coffee to take outside.

Last night, Fenny set a Tuesday lunch date for herself and Masha... which I will gently ambush. My goals will be twofold: try to get Fenny in the least amount of hot water possible, and see if there’s any love left between my best friend and me. If there is, then the math I did last night shifts in favor of the High Life.

If Masha rejects me, I’ll have to face it. I’ll have to go back to the wild-goose chase for Rabbi Dan. I’ll have to forsake Jake.

The hot tub is wide open, its jets on, steam rising into the air. I tie Gram Parsons’s leash to the handrail. His tail wags within his life vest. I climb a step to the hot tub and throw my leg over the side. Just as I slip into the water, Miguel Bernardeau and his girlfriend appear on the other side of the hot tub in matching skimpy suits, also holding coffees, also climbing in.

“Ah,” Miguel says, as if Gram Parsons had just licked therim of his espresso. “Olivia. I don’t believe you’ve met my friend Lucia.”

“Hi, Lucia,” I say and give a little wave. She smiles and waves back.

“Great party last night,” Miguel says as he reclines and closes his eyes.

“Yep.” I sip my coffee and watch the massive wake behind us, then I gaze out toward Catalina, the condos of Hamilton Cove receding in the mist. I think about last night, about Fenny talking through my mess with me, waving her vintage joint holder in the hotel room. I think about the joint still in my purse back in Laurel Canyon... Then it hits me: If Rabbi Dan is anything like Yogi Dan, he might hang out at Milo and Lhüwanda’s, the Santa Monica weed café. Maybe I can find him there.

Something in my periphery catches my attention. I look starboard and see a fishing boat gliding over the waves, out on a morning troll.

When the boat draws nearer, I make out the wordTongvaon its hull. I blink, incredulous, and then, looking closer, I see a man and a woman on board, both wearing baseball caps. The man’s cap has the Italian flag on it. The woman’s cap features the three-legged symbol of Sicily.

I gulp.

Masha and Eli.

I stand instinctively. Fate has entered the chat.

“Are you alright?” Lucia asks in a Spanish accent.

“That’s my... friend,” I mumble and climb out of the hot tub. I unhook Gram Parsons from the handrail and pick himup, offering a prayer of gratitude for his life vest. TheTongvais very close—no more than fifty feet away, stern-by-starboard.

I find myself standing on the starboard railing, Gram Parsons in my arms. Behind me somewhere I hear Fenny shouting, “Olivia, no!”

Then all I hear is water, all around me. I surface in the cold Pacific with Gram Parsons bobbing beside me, and swim like crazy toward my best friend.

••••••

“What the hellare you doing here?” Masha asks as Eli hoists Gram Parsons and me onto theTongva.

“Surprise?” I try jazz hands.

“No,” Masha says. “I’m jet-lagged, and your face isn’t helping.”

As Eli throws a towel around Gram Parsons and me, I recognize Brandy’s “Sittin’ Up in My Room” coming from a Bluetooth speaker. On deck cushions I see remnants of a galbi feast, crushed cans of PBR on the side.