Jane riding in the backseat made things awkward. We wanted to say no, but how could we? Refusing made me look bad. I cringed on the inside and forced a happy face.
While Megan drove her hatchback, Jane chatted non-stop. “What’s that on your wrist?” She leaned forward from the backseat with a pointed finger.
“My tattoo.” I held up my arm for Jane to get a better view.
“Did Teresa approve or did you have to cover it?”
Megan side-eyed me, annoyed. Unlike me, my best friend struggled with being nice to people she disliked. It gave me pleasure telling Jane that Teresa loved my tattoo, to the point that I secretly wondered if she wanted one, too. Since I sat in the front seat, I couldn’t read Jane’s expressions.
“People tell me that you come from the Stone family,” Jane continued, “but I wa
