Delilah Green Doesn’t Care

IT WASN’T ONLY Ruby who wanted Delilah on the camping trip, and they both knew it. Still, even in that intimate space between them in bed, Claire didn’t want to admit it out loud. And when Josh’s truck pulled into her driveway the next morning and Ruby sprinted outside to greet him, she told herself she was only looking out the window and down the street for Iris and Astrid, who were both coming separately and were due any minute.

Delilah had agreed to the trip. As she stood in Claire’s room at five o’clock that morning, pulling on her clothes, she’d grunted a fine, what else have I got to do when Claire asked about it again, but Claire barely knew the woman, and Delilah didn’t have the best reliability track record. At least twice, she remembered Astrid getting in a huff because Delilah hadn’t shown up for a holiday, complaining about wasted food she’d ordered or tickets she’d procured to the symphony in Portland. Claire kept telling herself it wasn’t a big deal if she didn’t come—it was one day and this thing between them was just sex and it wasn’t like they were going to have a chance to engage in a bunch of just sex while surrounded by Claire’s best friends, daughter, and her co-parent ex-boyfriend.

Jesus.

She rubbed her sleep-deprived eyes as Iris’s Subaru wagon pulled up. What had Claire been thinking? No, it was definitely better if Delilah didn’t come. Maybe she should even call Delilah and tell her—

Claire gripped the curtain tighter as Iris’s passenger door opened and Delilah stepped out, clad in another pair of gray jeans and a burgundy tank top that made it very clear she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Okay, so they were doing this.

Claire pressed a hand to her stomach, memories of last night washing over her like warm rain. The way Delilah had looked when she was talking about her childhood being simple. How lonely she had sounded. How her eyes—

No.

No, she was not going to think about Delilah’s eyes, for Christ’s sake. This thing between them was casual. Transient. Completely carnal, no hearts involved whatsoever. Claire took one . . . two . . . three cleansing breaths, then grabbed her backpack stuffed with her bathing suit and a change of clothes, her water bottle dangling from the side by a carabiner, and walked outside.

“Morning, sunshine,” Iris called, but as she came closer, her smile dipped. “God, you look like shit.”

“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 the passenger 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 SPRINGS was 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?”

Delilah sat back on her butt, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Oh yeah, Isabel was a real wilderness kind of mom, let me tell you. She was also a Girl Scout troop leader and caught fish with her bare hands.”

Iris glared at her for a beat before she cracked up. “God, I would’ve loved to see Isabel Parker-Green eating jerky and drinking out of a tin cup.”

“The eighth wonder of the world.”

Iris laughed and Delilah laughed too, and for some reason, the whole scene made Claire’s chest feel warm and heavy, like honey flowed through her veins. She watched them for a second before heading over to Josh and Ruby, who were putting up their tent next to a pile of gear Josh brought along to feed them all—camping cookware, two coolers full of food, and a huge backpack Claire knew he used to carry all his spices and nonperishables.

“How’s it going over here?” she asked, ruffling her daughter’s hair.

“Great!” the girl said as she slid a thin black pole through a little tube in the nylon tent, erecting it into a dome-like shape. “Dad’s teaching me all about camping stuff.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Like how to put up a tent,” Josh said, then winked at Ruby. When his eyes shifted to Claire, she could’ve sworn his smile dipped a little.

“You always did love the woods,” she said.

He nodded tightly. “I still do. I’d love to live out in a cabin someday, a little creek in the backyard.”

“You?” Claire said, surprised. Loving the woods was one thing; settling down miles from anyone and anything was quite another. She couldn’t imagine Josh, the man who always fled his own small town to find something better, something greater, living like a hermit in the Cascades.

“Yeah, me,” he said, zipping the tent’s door shut with a bit more fervor than Claire thought was necessary. “A little place over in Sotheby or Winter Lake. I’ve been doing a lot of work with Holden over there and those areas are pretty great.”

“Really.” Sotheby and Winter Lake were about thirty minutes outside of Bright Falls, north and northwest respectively. They were roughly the size of pinheads and known for fishing, quaint downtowns, and houses spread out so far apart in the surrounding woods it felt as though one lived on their own planet.

“Yes. Really.” Josh’s voice grew even tighter, and he shook his head while flipping the rain hood over the top of the tent.

“Josh, what—”

“Rubes, can you go grab those towels out of my truck?” he said. “I’m ready to hit the hot springs. How about you?”

“Yeah!” she said and dashed off toward the truck.

Once she was out of earshot, Claire turned back to him. “What is going on?”

“Nothing.” He secured the rain hood and then threw the now-empty tent bag inside. “I’m taking my daughter to the springs. Is that okay with you?”

She just blinked at him, her pulse spiking. She knew the hot springs were completely safe for swimming. There was a bathhouse for soaking, but there was also a natural pool about half a mile off the trail where you could spread out a little more. Still, drowning could happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere.

“No, I can see it’s not actually okay with you,” he said, shaking his head.

She sighed. “Josh, I just—”

“I’m going to do it anyway. You’ve got your friends, some dude over there I don’t even know in fucking leather . . . What the hell are those? Sneakers?”

Claire glanced back at Spencer, who was indeed wearing what could only be described as the fanciest sneakers Claire had ever seen. They had laces and white rubber bottoms, but the tops were a smooth brown leather, so soft and buttery-looking, she knew they had to be expensive.

“I thought you were fine with them coming along,” Claire said, turning back to Josh.

“Oh yeah, this is a dream come true.”

“What does that mean?”

He grabbed his own backpack from the picnic table and threw it over his shoulder, then he waved at the other four people in the campsite. “It means, what the hell is this, Claire? This was supposed to be a trip with my daughter. Her and me. One night. Simple. Next thing I know you’re calling me up and telling me you’re coming along too? Oh, and Astrid and Iris. And now Delilah and Douche Canoe over there.”

Claire opened her mouth with the sudden urge to verify that he could tell Spencer was indeed a douche canoe from first glance, but she knew that would be the wrong thing to say at this moment. She tried to focus on what he was actually upset about, which seemed to be that she and her friends crashed his camping trip with Ruby.

“I’m not going to apologize for wanting to make sure my daughter is safe,” she said. Hurt flashed across his face, but she refused to feel guilty. He was the one who’d put her in this position in the first place, after years and years of flaky parenting.

“Is that really what this is about? Safety?”

“What does that mean?”

He sighed, grabbing the straps of his pack and staring at the ground. When he glanced up, he looked wrecked, exhausted.

“I’m never going to be good enough, am I?” he asked softly.

Her mouth dropped open, but no words came out. Nothing. He nodded, then walked off toward Ruby and wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they headed for a clearly marked trail.

Claire watched them go, waiting for her daughter to turn back and at least smile or wave goodbye, but she didn’t. Panic flared in her chest, but she forced it down. Josh was good at this kind of stuff, after all. Growing up, his parents had taken him and his brother camping all the time, and Claire vaguely remembered a trip he took to Mount Rainier with his best guy friends right after high school graduation. No one died or got lost. No one even got so drunk they fell into a river and nearly drowned.

So yes, Ruby would be fine. Maybe she would’ve been fine all along and Claire didn’t even need to be here.

Maybe that’s what she was actually afraid of.