Page 55 of Deadly Little Scandals

But with enough cajoling and the right bribes, we did it.

“Bless William Faulkner’s little doggy heart,” Lily said as John David proudly drove past us in the Death Star, dressed like a Jedi, with a canine companion costumed as Uncle Sam.

Including the hat.

There were easily fifteen or twenty carts in the parade, plus bicycles, strollers, and at least a half-dozen other costumed dogs.

“How much do you think he understands?” I asked Lily as John David’s cart disappeared from sight, and the two of us melted back into the crowd. “About everything that’s happened?”

Lily’s blond hair caught in the wind. For once, she didn’t try to tame it. “More than he lets on.”

Thanks to being drafted as John David’s assistants, the two of us had managed to avoid Aunt Olivia this morning. My mom, as far as I knew, was still asleep.

“About last night,” I said, but before I could say more or Lily could interject, her phone buzzed—three times. I was close enough to see her screen.

The first text was a rose. The second was a snake. And the third started with the wordsYOUR CHALLENGE, SHOULD YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT…

“Why,” Lily said for the fifth time, “do they want me to enter the pie-eating contest?”

“Not enter,” I clarified helpfully, taking a bite of the snow cone I’d just acquired. “Win.”

Lily didn’t respond to the teasing tone in my voice the way she might have, pre-Ana. She didn’t respond at all. The thumb on her left hand prodded the bruised and battered knuckles on her right.

I thought about her second secret.Sometimes, my body feels like it belongs to someone else.

“Lily?” I said.

She blinked. “Headache.” Before she could return to the topic of the pie-eating contest—or why she cared about meeting the White Gloves’ challenge—her posture changed abruptly. She grabbed the snow cone out of my hand.

“Wouldn’t advise eating that if you want room for pie.” I realized a second later that she had no intention of eating anything. She just wanted something to look at. Something to hold. An excuse to pretend she didn’t see Walker and Campbell Ames across the way.

“Do you think she told him?” I asked so Lily wouldn’t have to. On the other side of the sprawling lawn, where a group of men was just starting to set up a half-dozen grills, Campbell and Walker were approached by Victoria.

And her father.

“Maybe Walker should date Victoria,” Lily said, tightening her death grip on the snow cone. “Dance with her. Talk to her. Kiss her and tell her she’s the one.”

I had the distinct feeling that Lily saying that was no different than her pressing on bruised knuckles to see if it hurt.

“Before you have your boyfriend and Victoria hypothetically married off and having babies,” I interjected, “I’d like to remind you that you’re the one who’s not sure, and they only danced together once.”

“I’m the one with doubtsnow,” Lily replied. “Walker was the one who wasn’t sure before.” She shifted the snow cone to her left hand, and the bruised fingers on her right curled and uncurled at her side. “Walker likes to be needed. He likes to ride in on a white horse and save the day, and he spent the last year thinking he’d never get to be that kind of guy again.”

“And you don’t want that kind of guy?” I asked.

“I don’t know what I want,” Lily reiterated as Walker and Campbell spotted us through the crowd. “I thought my mama and daddy had the perfect marriage. I thought they were the perfect couple. I was wrong. I wanted what they had. What does that say about me?”

Walker started making his way toward us, Campbell two steps behind.

“Are you hoping she didn’t tell him?” I asked Lily. “Or that she did?”

No reply.

“Happy Fourth of July.” Walker greeted her with a quick kiss to the lips. “Care for a stroll?”

He held out an arm, and she took it.

Once they were out of earshot, Campbell turned to me. “I didn’t tell him. Obviously.”