Page 23 of Back to Square One

“Agreed,” Lizzie agreed, pointing a fork with a French fry on it at her wife. “Especially in a group. If she says nothing at all about the food, she’s not impressed.”

Justine snapped the fry off the fork with her teeth, chewed, then said, “These fries are cooked to perfection.”

“See? The fries are a hit.” Laughter and nods of agreement went around before they all got busy on their meals.

Being like this with her closest friends—it was more about the feeling for Rowan than specific memories. Sure, she had some. Not recent ones, but she had older memories because most of them had been friends for years. It was the feeling of being with them, being around them, the feeling of safety and security and trust. She knew these women. Even the ones she didn’t know or were new to her—Claire, because she hadn’t always been a part of their group but more of an extra on occasion, and Jazzy because she was new—still made her feel comfortable about being there. Issues with Claire notwithstanding, of course. It was something her therapist had coached her to expect—that even though her brain might not remember a person, her body might, and she should pay attention to those signals it gave off, the actual feeling of being around them. And for her, for right now, safety was key.

They took their time with dinner and drinks, and by the time they got back to the house, it was dusk. Stevie headed down to get the fire going while everybody else took their purchases to their rooms, changed clothes, got more drinks, grabbed the s’mores ingredients, and soon, they were all sitting around the fire.

The s’mores served as dessert for many of them. Rowan passed, but her marshmallow-toasting skills were requested more than once, so she spun puffed white sugar on a stick over flames several times for people until they were all sitting quietly, staring into the fire.

“We are a talkative bunch tonight,” Justine said with a soft chuckle. “Did we run through everything we wanted to say at dinner?”

“Actually,” Becca said, “I’m sitting here thinking about how we’ve got a fire going while it’s still nearly eighty degrees and I might just go jump in that lake.” She sat forward in her chair so everybody could see her face as she added, “Naked.”

Claire gasped softly. “Skinny-dipping? I’m in.” The two of them jumped up. “Who’s with us? Come on!”

“Fuck it.” Stevie stood. “I’m in.”

“Same.” Lizzie was up.

Becca looked at Jasmine and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Are you kidding me?” Jasmine said, eyes wide. “It’s dark and I don’t know what’s down in those depths. Nope, my Black ass will be staying on the dock, thank you. I’m happy to watch you all and hope you don’t get eaten by a Loch Ness monster or something.”

“I’m afraid I’m with Jazzy,” Rowan said with a grin as she looked at her. “I mean, somebody has to be able to call 9-1-1, right?”

“Exactly,” Jazzy said, pointing a finger at her.

Justine and Evie both stood, agreeing to go in together, albeit grudgingly, and Jazzy ran up to the house to grab towels. Then the whole group of them headed to the water.

The end of the dock was wide, like a deck area, and the Adirondack chair from that morning was still there. Clothes flew comically, like they were in a cartoon, women stripping quickly and tossing their clothes onto the chair. Then there were little cries of delight followed by splashes as they jumped in one by one. Rowan promised herself she wouldn’t watch when Evie took her clothes off.

She failed miserably.

Evie had always been beautiful to her, but seeing her now, in all her naked glory in the slightly blue tint of the moonlight, did things to Rowan. Made her feel things. Sexy things. Dirty things. Evie’s breasts were small, but Rowan could almost feel them in her hands—her brain hadn’t lost that memory. She had rounded hips, a fabulous ass, and gorgeous, shapely legs. She turned to face the water, and Rowan’s gaze was drawn to her shoulders. Evie had always had the sexiest shoulders somehow. She jumped into the lake, and Rowan was left with the memory of what she’d just seen burned into her brain as if it had been branded by a hot iron.

“You okay?” Jazzy asked softly, for only Rowan to hear.

She sighed. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“She’s gorgeous. No shade for staring.”

“Did I stare?” Rowan grimaced.

Jazzy grinned. “I did, too. No worries.”

“Babe!” Becca called from the water. “It’s amazing in here. Are you sure you won’t come in?”

“I love you, but these feet are staying on solid ground.” Jazzy called back.

They splashed and chatted and treaded water. Rowan noticed how Claire stuck close to Evie. Annoyingly close, if Rowan was asked to describe it. She couldn’t hear their low murmurs, but at one point, Evie rolled her eyes and paddled slightly away from Claire. Who followed her.

Eventually, they came out, climbing the ladder at the corner of the dock, as Rowan and Jazzy held towels open for them. Evie climbed out and smiled at Rowan, who noticed for the first time that she had a very small tattoo on the inside of her left arm, just near where it bent. She caught Evie’s arm without thinking, and the cool softness of her skin sent a shockwave through Rowan.

“I don’t remember this,” she said softly, looking at the words. They were all lowercase and said simply here, now. “Is it new?”

Evie nodded, her gaze on Rowan’s hand holding her arm. “It is. I just got it about three or four months ago.”