Paper Flowers (Pretty Plastic People) ★

047. Party Crashers

047. Party Crashers

Celia's out at the beach when Liam and I get back to the house, but her bottle of champagne sits ominously on the kitchen counter. I put it in the cabinet, far out of sight, and help Liam unload the groceries.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," he says as he puts all the vegetables in a stack. "You saw how passive-aggressive Celia was at the store. Maybe I'm delusional, thinking we can all have a peaceful dinner."

"Not delusional. Just a little optimistic."

The back door creaks open, admitting a wave of heat and sticky ocean breeze. Brynn wrings her long white hair—darkened at the roots now—in a towel, smiling at us. "I heard we're making dinner," she says. "Can I help?"

"If you know how to cook salmon, go for it." Liam rubs the bridge of his nose. "I think I'm in over my head."

Brynn reaches for the salmon and takes it out of its plastic wrap. "Cassidy told me you probably overheard her and Nathan in the kitchen this morning, Erika," she says.

"Not words. Just their tone. They sounded angry."

She purses her lips. "Cassidy's leaving for tennis training straight from this trip. That means they've got the next three weeks to figure out their relationship."

"Why does everything think college means the end of everything?" asks Liam. He rifles through drawers for a cutting board and drops it on the counter with a decisive plop. "Allison and I aren't breaking up. Long distance isn't impossible."

Brynn shrugs. "Some people can do it. Some people can't."

She's busy chopping up the salmon and Liam's started meticulously cutting carrots. I stand awkwardly beside them, not really sure what to do. I guess I could start on the salad—at least it'll give me something to concentrate on besides this conversation.

I reach for the lettuce and find a giant bowl to put it in. Then I pull out the cucumber and grab a knife. I focus on severing them into perfect, even slices. That's what I have to worry about. Not my friends fighting or how that translates to me and Spencer, or even Celia's annoying attitude.

Unfortunately, there's only one cucumber, and soon I'm forced to tune back into Liam and Brynn's conversation. Brynn's placing her salmon chunks in a baking pan like she's a professional chef, and Liam watches over her shoulder with wide eyes.

"I didn't know you cook," he said.

"Not too much."

"Salmon seems pretty advanced."

She smiles. "It's not that hard if you put it in the oven."

The conversation's shifted from relationships—good. It's like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders. I toss the cucumbers into the lettuce and pipe up, "Brynn, Liam's trying to learn all about cooking. He's stressing about fatherhood."

"Is there something we should know? Everything good with Allison?"

Grinning, Liam says, "You're gonna have to wait a while longer for a well-bred son to carry on the Alvarado name. It's mainly just about college."

"Who's having a son?"

Allison's head pokes into the kitchen, the rest of her body out on the porch. She's even more tanned than usual, and her nose and cheeks are burnt from too much time out in the sand.

"Nothing, babe," calls Liam.

Allison steps into the house, kicking off her flip-flops. "Why don't I smell food yet? You told me you were cooking me a three-course meal."