Six
The walk home from the bar was quiet. Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that made her thoughts loud, pressing in on her, winding around her ribs, making it impossible to ignore the way her body still buzzed.
She hated that.
Agatha let out a sharp breath as she unlocked her front door, stepping inside. Normally, Billy would be here—sprawled across the couch, his Switch in his hands, half-watching TV, asking her what was for dinner. But he was at Wanda’s.
And she was alone.
No distraction.
Because Rio was supposed to be the distraction—before Rio was, well, Rio.
She tossed her purse onto the counter, kicked off her shoes, and didn’t bother turning on the lights.
Agatha felt the drinks from tonight but not like she did two hours ago. Two hours ago Agatha was happily flirting with Rio and then she wasn’t.
Okay.
Straight to the bedroom.
Straight to bed.
But the second her head hit the pillow, she groaned, dragging her hands down her face.
Because now there was nothing left to do but think.
And all she could think about was her.
Rio Vidal.
Jen’s stepsister.
The girl who never came back after high school, never showed up for family gatherings, never seemed to give a damn about anything.
And fuck it, this new Rio had Agatha hooked.
Rio had been devastatingly confident—smirking like she knew something Agatha didn’t, shoulders loose, eyes dark, voice slow and steady like she had all the time in the world.
And then there were the tattoos.
The ones stretching down her arms, peeking out from under the hem of her shirt, teasing at something along her ribs—something Agatha wanted to trace—
She let out a sharp breath, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.
Absolutely not.
She was getting this out of her system.
Right now.
Because come morning, she wouldn’t be thinking about Rio Vidal anymore.
Agatha half slid, half army crawled across her bed towards her pillows.
Sleep would help. Sleep would help her get over it.
—-
Except morning came.
And maybe
- maybe -
Agatha had a dream about a faceless tattooed woman last night. Perhaps, some would call it a dirty dream.
Agatha doesn’t think so, because the woman that went down on her for so long she begged her to stop didn’t have a face. So it couldn’t have been Rio. So, in theory, it doesn’t count.
Agatha could follow that logic.
She heard herself groan before she realized she was even making a sound.
She should’ve found a different distraction last night.
She felt herself pushing to get her eyes open.
The first thing she saw was the soft light filtering through the window.
The second was the ceiling fan, spinning too slow, too steady, too mocking.
She exhaled sharply, dragging herself out of bed.
She felt like she was a teenager.
So no, this wasn’t happening.
This was nothing.
Rio was leaving after the wedding. She didn’t care about anything—not Westview, not the people in it, not Agatha.
So whatever the hell last night was?
It wasn’t real.
Just a reaction. A moment. A mistake.
And Agatha?
She was great at mistakes.
Even better at fixing them.
She was going to get through this brunch, survive the rest of the weekend, and move on.
That was the plan.
And it was working.
If she said it enough to herself, surely she’d believe it, right?
—-
And it was working.
Right up until she saw her again.
Because before she could even think to stop herself, she heard herself saying “Rio—hey, I was hoping we could talk. But I’m actually looking for—”
Rio looked up from where she leaned against the hallway wall, expression unreadable.
Then she turned, and—
Agatha’s breath hitched.
Because shit.
Rio was wearing that.
One could describe it as simply a button up shirt and pants. But no - it looked better than that description.
And she wore it like she wore everything—like she barely had to try, like she just was.
The fabric was tailored in that effortless way, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, no tie, collar open just enough to be distracting.
Agatha forced herself to focus.
She cleared her throat, brushing past Rio to glance towards the bathroom—
And there he was.
“Billy.” She heard herself say.
Beaming like he just got the world’s best birthday present.
He stepped out, tilting his chin up, admiring himself in the hallway mirror.
Agatha blinked. “What—” She squinted. “What’s on your face?”
Billy smirked. “Eyeliner. Bit of mascara. Lip gloss.” He turned his head slightly, examining the way the light hit his features. “Looks good, right?”
Agatha opened her mouth, then closed it, then looked at Rio.
Rio, who was holding a tube of lip gloss in her hand like it was nothing.
Billy turned back to the mirror, nodding to himself. “Jen said I couldn’t wear any. But then Rio—” He gestured toward her dramatically. “—had some in her bag. And let me use it. Which was, like, the coolest thing ever.”
Agatha’s gaze snapped to Rio.
Rio just raised an eyebrow. “Kid wanted makeup. I had makeup.”
Billy grinned. “See? Cool.” He paused, suddenly more serious. “It just makes me feel more like me, you know? And I wanna feel like me in the pictures.”
Agatha’s expression shifted.
Something warm pressed at her chest.
By the time Agatha was pushing Billy towards the dining room for photos, she realized two things.
One: her previous idea of not engaging with Rio was going exactly how she thought it would. Not going.
Two: Rio cared. At least a little bit.
Even if it was just about her kid being upset. Or maybe, maybe Rio cared about pissing off Evanora. But someone who didn’t care, didn’t stand outside a men’s bathroom waiting for her makeup back from a teenager.
Agatha knew Billy was upset about the no-makeup rule since Jen first mentioned it to him, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it. Because right afterwards, Jen was spilling her guts to both of them that this wedding was not just hers and Ralph’s - no - it was also Evanora’s.
Her money meant her vision and her rules.
And so Billy bit his tongue. And Agatha watched him.
She hadn’t liked it, but she didn’t fight it either.
Because that was Evanora. And Jen knew to always follow her word. And Agatha was Jen’s bridesmaid.
But Rio?
Rio just handed Billy the damn lip gloss. No hesitation. No worry about fallout. Just a quiet, simple act.
Agatha didn’t know what to do with that.
And by the time they were lining up for photos, she realized something else.
She was still thinking about it.
About her.
She almost didn’t hear Evanora speaking—wouldn’t have, if Billy’s shoulders under her hands hadn’t suddenly tensed.
“What did I say about makeup?”
The dining room fell into silence.
Before Agatha could even formulate a response, Jen stepped between them and Evanora.
“It’s just some eyeliner and lip gloss. It’s not a big deal,” Jen shot back.
From over Jen’s shoulder, Agatha saw Evanora’s mouth press into a thin line.
“I told him no makeup,” Evanora said, voice tight.
“And I said it was fine. Can we take the photos now? I’m starving.” Jen didn’t wait for a response. She turned on her heel, already facing the photographer, without so much as a glance back at Billy or Agatha.
Agatha watched as Jen squared her shoulders and took a measured breath, keeping her composure better than most would after standing up to Evanora.
Agatha wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Jen snap back so quickly. Or so confidently. But Jen had always had Billy’s back—maybe because he was Agatha’s, and Jen had always had Agatha’s back, too. Jen was loyal to a fault when it came to her and Alice.
The photographer gestured for Agatha to stand beside Jen for the first photo.
And for the next thirty minutes, Agatha absolutely did not spend her time thinking about Rio while smiling until her cheeks went numb.
Bridesmaids together. Then Billy with Jen. Then Billy, Jen, and Agatha. Then a series of other shots before they were called up again.
If this was just the brunch photos, Agatha wasn’t sure how she was going to survive the rest of the week.
Finally, it was just Jen, and the photographer asked if she wanted any last photos before wrapping up.
Jen didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah, you missed an important one.”
The photographer looked at Jen like she’d just grown another head.
Jen jerked her chin toward the back of the room—where Rio was standing, leaning against a column. Not that Agatha had noticed.
“I need one with my sister.”
Rio glanced up. “What?”
“You heard me.” Jen motioned for her to come forward.
For the first time since Agatha had seen her at the bar, Rio hesitated.
But she walked forward anyway. And as she took her place beside Jen, Jen leaned down to whisper something Agatha definitely did not try to hear.
Rio looked up at Jen, smirking. But not her usual cocky smirk. This one was different—small, like she was holding back a laugh.
The photographer signaled.
Three.
Jen and Rio turned their heads toward the camera.
Two.
The photographer adjusted the lens.
One.
Rio smiled.
Not a smirk. Not a knowing grin.
A real smile. Soft. Small.
And the camera clicked.
Agatha blinked and turned away—only to find Alice standing in front of her, smirking.
Alice glanced between Agatha and the pair getting photographed, her smirk widening.
Agatha exhaled sharply and while she’s sure Billy has heard worse, covered his ears with both hands. “Shut the fuck up.”
—
Despite this brunch and the other night at the bar, Agatha didn’t really drink. She didn’t have the time—not between the shop and being a mom.
But it was Jen’s wedding. And right now, she was immensely grateful for the crisp mimosa in her hand.
“To Jen pissing off Evanora,” Agatha said, clinking her glass against Alice’s.
“I’m ignoring that,” Jen muttered, though she took a sip of her own drink.
The three of them were tucked into a table near the edge of the dining hall, just far enough from Evanora. And while Agatha could still feel the woman’s presence looming over the event, she ignored it.
Because right now, she was tipsy, laughing with her best friends like they were kids again. And between the sleepless night of Billy being away and Rio occupying far too much space in her thoughts, she needed this.
Alice snickering beside her, Jen’s low laugh—Agatha could finally breathe again.
And then Ralph showed up.
He strolled in like he owned the place, suit fitting almost too well, exuding nothing but smugness. Agatha had to breathe through her mouth so she didn’t choke on his cologne.
Jen sat up a little straighter, and just like that, the buzz from this morning disappeared.
“Ladies,” Ralph greeted smoothly, flashing his practiced smile.
Agatha offered a tight-lipped smile. Alice grunted.
Ralph either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He rested a hand a little too firmly on the back of Jen’s chair. “Evanora wants to talk about the reception seating chart. Apparently, some last-minute changes need approval.”
Agatha glanced toward the center of the room. Sure enough, Evanora was watching.
“Oh, right,” Jen said, plastering on a bright, agreeable smile. She stood, turning back toward them. “Don’t drink all the champagne before I get back.”
“No promises,” Alice said before Agatha could.
Jen grinned, looping her arm through Ralph’s as he led her across the room.
And just like that, it was just the two of them.
Alice turned to Agatha, stirring her drink with the tip of her straw. “So,” she said casually. “Wanna talk about it?”
Of course Alice would pounce the second they were alone.
Agatha had been doing so well at not engaging.
“Talk about what?” she said, feigning innocence.
Alice arched an eyebrow.
Agatha took a sip of her drink. “You need to be more specific.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Nope.” Agatha shook her head.
Alice hummed. Agatha took another sip.
Alice’s smirk widened.
“Okay,” Alice said finally. “Your crush on Jen’s stepsister.”
Agatha choked. Alice beamed.
“That’s not—” Agatha rasped.
Alice tilted her head, waiting.
Agatha scowled. “I don’t.”
“Mmhm.” Alice took a slow sip of her drink.
Agatha set her glass down. Maybe forcefully. “I don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Seriously.”
“Oh, I believe you.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. Alice just grinned wider.
Agatha exhaled sharply, fingers drumming against the table. “Even if I were thinking about Rio that way—which I don’t—it wouldn’t matter.”
Alice leaned forward. “Why?”
“Because she’s Jen’s stepsister.”
“And?”
“Because she’s leaving after the wedding.”
“And?”
“Because she doesn’t care about anything.”
Alice hummed, nodding—but she was now looking past Agatha’s left shoulder.
Agatha took another sip.
Alice kept nodding, gaze fixed on whatever was behind her.
So Agatha followed it.
Across the room, Billy sat at a table with Rio, leaning forward slightly as she gestured toward the floral centerpiece between them.
His brow furrowed, lips parted slightly, eyes locked onto hers.
Because Billy didn’t do this. He didn’t pay attention to people outside their immediate circle—not easily, not willingly. Jen and Alice were exceptions. Lilia, too. And even then, it had taken time for him to open up.
And yet, there he was. Listening.
And Rio—
Rio was pointing at a flower, tracing the outline of a petal with her fingertip. Billy nodded, hanging onto every word.
“That,” Alice said softly, “doesn’t look like someone who doesn’t care.”
Agatha didn’t respond.
Because Billy tilted his head, asking something.
And Rio nodded.
And Billy smiled.
For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just present.
He was engaged.
No matter how hard Agatha was trying not to be.