“Oh my God.” She grabs for it, but he snatches it away. “Where did you find it?”

“In your beach bag.”

“I didn’t want to lose it.”

“Of course not.” He moves her hair over her shoulder. “Let me put it back on for you.”

She drops her chin, bowing her head as he clasps it behind her neck and follows with a soft kiss at the top of her spine. Charlene shivers, and I get busy with the lettuce. I feel like an interloper on a very private moment.

Charlene startles me when she blurts out, “No!”

Her knife clatters to the counter, and she latches onto Darren’s wrist with both hands.

“No?” He cocks a brow. They’re rather villainous and archy.

Her eyes are wide. “No. They’re raw. Please.”

It takes me a second to realize she’s talking about the onions.

An amused grin plays over his mouth, but he drops the rings back on the chopping board. “Why don’t you help me bring the beers out?”

Charlene heaves a relieved sigh, peels off her gloves, and takes two bottles, passing the others to Darren. He links the fingers of his free hand through hers, and she follows him through the screen door on to the deck.

Violet and I make eye contact.

“Okay. Is it just me, or was that really fucking weird?”

“That was really fucking weird,” Violet agrees.

“What the hell is going on with those two?”

“Honestly, I have no idea, but this stinky food business is starting to freak me out. We need to get her hammered and make her talk.”

“Yes. I’ll make some margaritas. They’re like truth serum.”

“This is why we’re soul sisters, right there—that and we both have men with giant dicks.”

I raise my hand for a high five as I pass. She shoves it out of the way and forces me to do a chest bump instead.

Once the veggies are prepared and I’ve made a pitcher of margaritas, plus a non-alcoholic one for Sunny, we take everything outside and join the rest of them on the deck. It’s still warm, although the sun has sunk below the tree line now. Pretty decorative lights wrap around the deck railing, illuminating the space. In addition to a huge dining table inside, there’s also a screened-in porch, complete with a chandelier and seating for ten. It overlooks the water, and it’s the perfect setting for dinner.

Sunny’s currently hanging off of Miller’s arm while he flips steaks. Darren and Charlene magically appear again fifteen minutes before dinner. They both seem composed, if not tense, which makes me even more curious about what the heck the onion-Doritos thing is.

Sunny practically sits in Miller’s lap during dinner. I think she’s sniffing his shirt. If she wasn’t pregnant, I’d wonder if she was high.

“Charlene, I’ve been meaning to ask where you got your necklace. It’s so pretty.” I try to be nonchalant about it, but based on Violet’s glare, it’s way obvious what I’m up to. Also, I’ve had two margaritas and a lot of sun today, so I’m feeling the booze even with the steak-and-potatoes buffer.

Charlene fingers the pearls. “Oh, uh, it was a gift.”

“You must love it since you wear it all the time,” Sunny chimes in.

She’s still all snuggled up to Miller, making it a challenge for him to eat. He’s resorted to stabbing his steak and biting off hunks since he doesn’t have a free hand to cut it with.

I nod in agreement. “You hardly ever take it off.”

“Pearls are Charlene’s favorite.” Darren traces the edge of the necklace with a fingertip. “Isn’t that right?”

Charlene blinks several times, rapidly. Now, she and Violet are probably the most open people I’ve ever met when it comes to discussing sexual adventures. So I’m surprised by the flush that creeps into her cheeks. She puts her hand over Darren’s when he slips a finger under the necklace.

“I love pearls.” She’s almost breathless.

This is so weird.

“It’s a symbol of Darren’s favorite spot to unload,” Violet says, breaking the sexual tension. I’d like to say it’s because she’s as drunk as I am, but she’s not.

Darren snorts and whispers something to Charlene, who chokes on her margarita.

Before I can segue to asking about the Doritos and raw onions diet they’re on, a flash of headlights and the sound of throbbing bass freeze us all in place. The lights and noise cease just as abruptly.

Violet checks her phone. “Oh, shit. I missed a few messages. It looks like Lance decided to come after all.”

Less than a minute later, Lance comes around the side of the deck with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a couple of bottles in his hand. He seems unsure of himself as he raises the bottles in greeting. “Hey, hope ya don’t mind me crashing yer party.”

Violet and Alex exchange a look before she tosses her napkin on the table and pushes her chair back. “Of course not! We’re glad you decided to come.”

Lance sets the bottles on the table, and I notice his raw knuckles.

Violet takes his battered hand in hers and inspects it briefly. “Why don’t we drop your stuff inside?”

“Sure.”

She puts her hand on his elbow and leads him toward the cottage, glancing over her shoulder once at Alex before they disappear inside.

“It has to be Tash. She must’ve called,” Randy mutters.

“I think she was in town,” Alex says quietly.

“Shit.” Miller picks up the closest bottle. It’s expensive scotch. “We’re gonna have to make sure he doesn’t chug this whole thing.”

“It’s all right. Vi’s pretty good at talking him down,” Alex says.

A few seconds later, a door on the other side of the cottage opens and closes, and we hear Lance and Violet walking down to the dock. I glance over at Alex. Despite his jealous streak, he doesn’t look worried; he just seems sad. It makes me wonder what Lance hides under that front of his.

6

MISSING

RANDY

Once dinner is cleaned up, Sunny brings out the baby and bridal magazines. I’m not big on either since I don’t have a vagina, so I make my way down to the water to check on Lance. Based on the state of his knuckles, he’s had one of his meltdowns. Solar lights mark the path, and soft recessed lights line the edges of the dock. I want to say I trust Lance with Violet, especially since Alex does, but I’m not sure if I do. So I’m bringing them drinks. I know Lance officiated their wedding, but it’s hard to forget all the parties and bunnies from last season. He’s done some things that are on the edge. He’s my friend, but he’s not in a good headspace, judging by the state of his hands.