“Nah, I don’t flip all my properties.” He took a few bites then sipped his coffee. “I’m going to keep this as a rental. Great neighborhood, summer tourist spot, it’ll make good money. When it doesn’t, I’ll sell.”
“I’m sure the neighborhood association will love that.”
“I can’t rent it long term. That’s against the association’s rules, but I can use it as a daily or weekly rental. I’ll just have to find a management company to clean it in between.” He shrugged. “I’ve got several properties in L.A., a couple of places in New York, and a few cabins in Gatlinburg. Nets me a nice income.”
“That’s... surprisingly responsible,” I said as I took another biscuit. “If all that fails, you can cook for a living.”
Dylan grinned. “That I can. Mom worked a lot, so I had to figure it out on my own. Thank God for the Internet.”
“Why not eat out?” I asked. The restaurants in L.A. must be amazing.
“Believe it or not, it gets old.”
“I had to start cooking once Dad had his stroke.” The sausage gravy had a hint of something I couldn’t quite place. “Mom went back to full-time at the restaurant. Jake and I had to figure it out. Once Dad came home, I had no choice but to keep cooking.”
“Don’t you have any other family around here?” He grabbed another biscuit and smothered it with butter.
“My uncle Martin lives in Colorado. He used to come back during Christmas until my grandparents died. Then he stopped.” I shrugged. Uncle Martin was creepy anyway. Or that’s how I remembered him. “Mom was an only child. Her parents divorced when she was a kid. She took off when she was eighteen and ended up here. She doesn’t talk to them.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean...” Dylan finished his sentence in his head as he took a bite of his biscuit. “Dad’s parents are in England still. I don’t really know them. Mom’s dad died a few years ago, but she has lunch with her mom every Sunday when she’s home. I’m not invited.”
“Why?”
“I’m the bad seed.” He put his silverware on his plate and stood. “Anyway, enough tragic back-story for the day. You feeling better?”
Surprisingly, I was. “You’re a miracle worker.”
Dylan laughed and took my plate. “You gonna call your friend now?”
I glanced at my phone. Iris had sent two more messages. “I’m going to have to.”
“What’s the deal anyway?”
I took in a deep breath and gave him the shortened version of Miranda’s tragic love for Eddie. Every time I said his name, I wanted to throw up.
“Rip off the Band-Aid. Tell Iris the truth. Maybe it will get back to Miranda,” Dylan said as he turned around to rinse off the plates. “If you want some privacy, it’s gorgeous outside.”
I stood with my phone in hand and headed toward the sliding doors off the kitchen. “Thanks, Dylan. For breakfast.”
“No problem.” He didn’t turn around as he methodically cleaned the stove. No wonder my first impression had been wrong. He was a neat freak.
I opened the door, hit with a warm breeze off the lake. He was right. It was gorgeous outside. The sun bounced off the lake. In the distance, a boat sped along in the distance. It was peaceful. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin that sense of peace, but I had to talk to Iris. I sat in on the couch and hit call on my phone.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Iris answered.
I closed my eyes. I didn’t deserve that, even though it felt like I did. “I—”
“No, wait, I don’t know if you can even justify this. Eddie? Seriously? Of all the people at the party, you fucked Eddie.”
“Whoa, I did not have sex with him.” I sat up straighter.
“That’s not what he said. He was telling everyone about it. Andy they all saw you walk toward the lake with him.” Iris sighed into the receiver. “And Miranda saw you with him. She saw you kissing him. No matter what happened after she walked away, she saw enough. How could you do that to her?”
I glanced toward the door in the kitchen. “I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me. I tried pushing him off, but I had too much to drink.”
“So this is all his fault? You’re going with that excuse.”
“Excuse?” My throat constricted. I could barely get the words out. “It’s not an excuse. He kissed me, and I turned my head. I never consented to him kissing me. I’d never do that to Miranda. Every time... you know what. Never mind. I don’t have to justify it to you.”
“You’re telling the truth,” she said almost awed by the mere idea of it. I’d never lied to her. Not even when her too short skirt showed her Powerpuff Girl undies when she bent over.
“You can ask Dylan if you don’t believe me. He yanked Eddie off of me.”
“Jesus, Cam.” Iris sighed. “Miranda’s never going to forgive you.”
Tears streamed down my face. “I know. She’s got some sick obsession with Eddie. No matter what shitty thing he does, she always believes him over anybody else.”
“You rarely drink. What happened? And why was Dylan there?”
I glanced toward the door, grateful Dylan couldn’t hear me. “He wanted to blow off steam after the show. I thought it was a good idea to go to the party. He... he ordered me around, told me not to drink, then started flirting with Lola. It just... it bothered me more than it should. So I decided to try and forget everything by downing as much booze as I could in a short amount of time.”
Iris snorted. “That’s so not like you.” She paused then sighed loudly. “Look, give Miranda time to cool off. Don’t call her, text her, or anything. I’ll try to keep her from doing anything stupider than she normally does. I’ll.... Just focus on your show.”
I nodded as she ended the call. Not only had I lost
