Page 42 of Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend (Catching Feelings #1)

“It was bad for my family, but it was worse for the Kowalskis. Serena’s family.

My grandparents at least got bought out.

Serena’s family owned an auto shop, and they got priced out.

A big chain came in and the Kowalskis couldn’t compete.

They just had to close. Her dad went from owning his own shop to being a mechanic for someone else. ”

“I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry.”

Delia shrugs. “It’s not like it was your fault.”

Red elbows her. “You wanna say that louder?”

A corner of Delia’s mouth raises. “Ha. I see what you’re doing.” Then to me, she says, “Red doesn’t think I’m giving you a fair shot.”

“Eh,” I say, giving her a half-smile of my own. “It’s good to make us outsiders work for it.”

Delia laughs.

Up ahead, another family joins the scene—the Kents, including the mayor and his wife and their grandson, Tucker, with Serena and Dakota.

The Kents look like they’re small town country club wealthy, while Serena looks like … she’s trying to be. She’s decked out in all white like she’s going to a tennis match. It’s the wrong look for the occasion. And now I see her look for what it is: an insecure girl who’s clawing to find her place.

I know the feeling.

And it’s that sense of understanding that helps me see everything differently.

Dakota is wearing a pink princess dress and a frown.

Tucker is holding her hand, at least, but he’s on his phone, looking completely disinterested as his grandpa shakes hands with the pastor and as his wife looks for a friendly face.

Poor Serena.

Maybe Tucker’s a nice guy (though I doubt it). Maybe he’s interesting and has unique views on, you know, NATO, or something.

But he’s no Sean.

I bet she loved Sean. How could she not? But she watched a soulless company rob her family of its livelihood. They probably struggled for everything they got after that. I can imagine she worried where her place was and if it was possible to want something more.

She was wrong to treat Sean the way she did, to use Dakota against him.

But I still feel bad for her.

So when Dakota turns to me, with her big blue eyes and her dark blonde pigtails, it’s impossible for me not to smile and wave.

Wrong move.

Dakota stops cold when she sees me. Her little face twists, and her eyes fall to my shirt—an old Blue Collars tee of Sean’s from some community event. It’s soft and oversized, the hem skimming the top of my white shorts, with paint-dipped children’s hands all around the bottom.

And then she bursts into tears.

Tucker bends down, reaching for her. “Hey, sweetheart?—”

But Serena snatches Dakota up before he can touch her and turns toward me with a look that could melt glass. “You are unbelievable.”

Me?

With Dakota sobbing in her hair, Serena storms forward.

“Did you do this on purpose?”

I freeze in shock. “What? No?—”

“You knew she’d be here. You knew she’d see it. Don’t pretend this wasn’t a calculated move.”

“Pretend what? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Because wearing his shirt was just a coincidence.”

I open my mouth. Close it. And then it clicks. “Are the handprints hers? ”

Serena’s eyes narrow to points. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know. Dakota still misses him every day, and you’re out here throwing it in her face that the man she called Daddy isn’t waiting for her anymore.”

“Serena,” Tucker says, but the woman shrugs him off.

I. Am. Stunned.

Utterly floored.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Oh, was he raising a different little girl? Do you really expect anyone to believe you?”

There’s no right answer here. No defense she’ll hear. I’m the monster reminding a kindergartner of her heartache. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye—Serena’s friends. They’re all clustered by the pavilion, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, like they’re a jury issuing a life sentence.

I spot a few people I know from church, too, eyeing me like they should have known I was only here to cause trouble, like they’ve been waiting all along for the moment when I’d mess things up for this town.

Even the pastor shakes his head, a disappointed look on his face.

The burn in my throat is so much more than shame.

It’s humiliation. And it flares hot and sharp as acid.

Just like that, I’m the outsider again. The woman too selfish and clueless to see how a T-shirt could break a little girl’s heart.

The woman who’s being attacked over a misunderstanding, and no one cares.

They’re too busy standing and judging me.

Agreeing that I deserve this public flogging.

Agreeing that I don’t belong here. That I never will.

Miss Eunice approaches, and I brace myself for her to whisper that maybe it’s time for me to leave, bless my heart.

She puts a hand on my forearm.

“If your daughter still misses Sean, she should blame her parents,” she tells Serena in a tone of devastating politeness.

“Sean and Kayla didn’t make you two sneak around.

You strung that man around for years through no fault of his own.

And Kayla’s only fault is that she’s an outsider.

She has been a blessing to this town. If you can’t see that, cast the beam out of your own eye. Bless your heart.”

Serena blinks. For once, speechless.

Loretta sidles in on my other side. “And stop throwing Sean in Dakota’s face, dear, and be a better mother. You and Tucker chose each other, so leave Kayla out of it. The girl shows up for others. Maybe you ought to try it.”

A slow, shocked silence settles around us.

Serena’s jaw works like she’s chewing gravel. She doesn’t respond—just turns on her heel, clutching Dakota. But as she walks away, she glances back at me—cold and composed in a way that makes the hairs on my arms lift. Like she’s already planning her next move.

Tucker, meanwhile, doesn’t even look at us. He just trails after them like he’s trying not to be noticed.

When they’re gone, air escapes my lungs like I’ve been holding it hostage.

And as Loretta and Eunice turn back to their cleanup like nothing happened, I stay motionless, blinking in the sun, heart pounding.

“Don’t stand there with your mouth open,” Loretta says. “You’ll let in the flies.”

Eunice pats my back. “Come on, dear. Let’s get back to work.”

I nod, still stunned. But steadier, too. I may never be universally loved, but if this is what belonging feels like—throat tight, eyes burning, arms aching to hug these two dear women—I’ll hold onto it with both hands.

I smile and nod. “Yes, ma’am.”