Delilah Green Doesn't Care

Claire represented a contradiction, the discomfiting marriage of beauty and pain.

Delilah paused in the doorway, her shoulders up around her ears. Claire wanted to scream, no, no, no, this wasn’t right, but it was. It was, because Delilah didn’t turn around, she didn’t stay, she didn’t push.

She just left.

Isabel didn’t love Delilah Green, and she never would.

“If you ask me, this is her fault,” Isabel said. “You were perfectly happy marrying Spencer before she came back to town. I warned you she’d just stir up trouble, but no, you just had to have your sister at your wedding, didn’t you?”

Delilah Green didn’t care. Because they’d never once cared about her.

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.

Delilah had on a pair of hot pink lace cheekies, because of course she did.

She just felt fucking lonely.

And now Claire was telling Astrid how she needed her so she wouldn’t screw her ex on a camping trip.

Instead, she leaned against one of the tall pines that bordered the bank—god, this woman was always leaning on things—and watched Spencer laugh with his friends.

“Like you’d follow her to the moon.”