Amy sat with Bella, Leanna, and Jenna later that evening as they tried to comfort her. God bless them for not giving up on her, because she was acting as sullen as a brooding teenage girl. She tipped back the bottle of Middle Sister wine she’d bought on her way there and wiped the tears from her eyes. How many times had she come to watch Tony surf without him knowing? How many years had she watched his muscles bunch and flex as he waxed his board, knowing those muscles would look even more enticing if she were the object of his efforts, lying beneath him as he learned about her more mature, womanly body and made it sing? How many summer nights had she lain in her bed wondering if he might appear at her window with confessions of love instead of the girls wanting to go skinny-dipping? She felt Jenna scoot closer, smushing their legs together. “That’s good, Ames. Cry it out. Cry out that Tony love.” Jenna took the bottle from her and drank from it; then she handed it to Bella.
