Page 83 of Delilah Green Doesn't Care

“Thank you, darling,” Claire said.

“Surely, you’ve looked in a mirror,” Iris said, cupping Claire’s chin and peering into her face.

“I just didn’t sleep much last night,” Claire said. She met Delilah’s eyes over Iris’s shoulder, and her stomach fluttered.

“Why not?” Iris asked.

“Just... stuff with Ruby. She spent the night at Tess’s but then came home in the middle of the night. They had a fight.”

There. That wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t lying to her friends about having the best sex of her life—several times—all night long. She was simply... keeping it for herself.

Which, Claire realized, she would do even if Delilah wasn’t who she was. This thing with Delilah was new, temporary, but intense. And Claire was a grown woman. She was allowed to hold things close, keep them to herself until she figured out how to handle them.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Iris said. “She okay?”

Claire sighed. She’d tried to talk to Ruby this morning about Tess, but her daughter had refused to go into it. Looking at her now, up in Josh’s truck bed and helping him arrange the camping gear, she looked happier than Claire had seen her in a while.

“I think so, yeah,” she said.

“Okay, good, because we need to focus,” Iris said, waving Delilah over. “I picked up Cranky Pants this morning—”

“Cranky Pants?” Delilah said when she reached them. “What am I, five?”

“—and it’s imperative that we share a tent with Astrid.”

“That you two share a tent with Astrid,” Delilah said, circling her finger at them. “I’m sleeping in that hammock I just saw old what’s his name throw in his truck.”

Claire lifted her brow.Old what’s his name?

Delilah lifted a brow right back, and Claire had to fight a smile.

“Look,” Iris said. “It’s go time, all right? We’re a week from doomsday, and we have to—”

Iris cut herself off when a car that most certainly wasn’t Astrid’s pulled up along Claire’s curb. It was silver and sleek, its Mercedes emblem shining under the morning sun. Astrid stepped out of thepassenger side, a Louis Vuitton weekender bag on her elbow, and walked around to the driver’s door.

“Please tell me that is the fanciest fucking Lyft in the history of all Lyfts,” Iris said.

The driver’s door opened, and Spencer stepped out, aviator sunglasses like mirrors over his eyes.

“Maybe he’s just dropping her off,” Claire said, but her palms had started to sweat.

Astrid hooked her arm through his, smiling as they walked up the drive, an expensive-looking leather duffel bag dangling from Spencer’s hand.

“Or maybe,” Delilah said, slinging an arm around Iris’s shoulder, “Astrid just really, really doesn’t want to share a tent with you two.”

BAGBY HOT SPRINGSwas located deep within Mount Hood National Forest. Claire surveyed the spot Josh had reserved for camping, which was pretty perfect, she had to admit. The forest floor was wide and flat for the tents, evergreens and pines rising high above them and hemming them in, creating a shaded area that was cool and quiet. The springs and the bathhouse, which boasted newly renovated wooden tubs for soaking, were just a short hike away, about a quarter of a mile, and there were plenty of trails to explore during the day.

It was the perfect getaway.

Or at least it would be if Astrid wasn’t glued to Spencer’s side right now as he set up their tent. She’d barely spoken to Claire or Iris since they had arrived, taking only a moment to ask what the hell Delilah was doing on the trip, to which Claire had fumbled a very unsmooth response about how Ruby had taken a liking to her and,goodness, who could resist Ruby’s adorable hazel eyes when she really wanted something? Astrid had grunted a response, then promptly flocked to Spencer, who was calling out orders for tent stakes and some of the sparkling rosé that Iris had immediately popped open as soon as they arrived.

There were two more tents—one for Josh and Ruby and one, ostensibly, for Iris, Claire, and Delilah.

Claire decided not to think about that right now, how in approximately twelve or so hours, she was going to be stuffed in between her best friend and the woman she was secretly sleeping with.

Both of whom were now arguing over how to stick a stake in the ground.

“At an angle, you imbecile,” Iris said, yanking a thin metal stick out of the dirt and repositioning it through one of their tent’s nylon loops. “Haven’t you ever been camping before?”