Free The One That I Want by Marilyn Brant Page A

scavenger hunt.”
    Analise lifted her head away from my body and glanced at the counselor, curious.
    Shannon nodded. “The game is already set up, and your team won’t do nearly as well without you.” She reached down to grasp Analise’s hand—just holding it for now, but poised to tenderly tug her away, if necessary. I could feel it.
    “When can I talk to my Mommy?”
    “Tonight,” Shannon reassured her. “You can tell her all about the scavenger hunt, the opening feast, the dance party—”
    “There’s a dance party?”
    “Yep. Tonight,” the counselor said, tugging my daughter’s hand ever so gently. “You can call or text her and tell your mom all about it afterward. Sound good?”
    With her free hand, Analise squeezed me tight again and pressed her face even harder into my body. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry. Not to pull her away from camp and take her home with me right now.
    But a second later, she pulled herself away and allowed Shannon to lead her across the cabin to where Brooke and Lindsay were waiting patiently. Yvette stood at the door.
    “Don’t worry,” the counselor said to me this time. “I’ll take good care of her.”
    I nodded and walked with Yvette out of the cabin and into the parking lot, where my friend let me sob in the car for several minutes before we began the long drive home.
    When I finally got back into the house, I collapsed on the sofa and tried not to let the pervasive silence of my surroundings bother me. Four weeks of this, though! It already felt like an eternity, and it had just been a few hours.
    I’d gotten a text from Shar on the way back that just said, “Call me when you get home,” so I figured I’d better get my act together and do it. Shar wasn’t as sweet or as patient as Yvette. Then again, as kind and responsible and caring as Yvette was, she’d never been my confidante. We were always casual, neighbor friends, even back in high school. Shar, on the other hand, was the sort of friend who was like a sister, and the rules were different with sister friends.
    “Hey,” I said to Shar when she answered her phone. “Got your text. What’s up?”
    “It’s not about me , girlfriend. I wanted to know about you .”
    I couldn’t help it. I started crying again.
    “How many hours until you can talk to her?” my best friend whispered.
    I checked my watched. “Not ’til eight tonight.”
    “Okay. I’m coming over. We’re gonna watch a Ryan Reynolds movie. And there just may be some ice cream involved.”
    “Which one?” I asked.
    “Which kind of ice cream? I was thinking, maybe, a tiramisu gelato—”
    I laughed through my tears. “No, I meant which Ryan Reynolds movie?”
    “Who cares?” Shar replied. “I just want to ogle his hot body for two hours. Those abs…mmm! He makes me wish I were Canadian.”
    Shar was good at distracting me and, as I brushed away the wet splotches on my cheeks and thought about something as frivolous as hot actors again, I was reminded of an event I’d neglected to mention to my best friend.
    “Oh! By the way, are you free on the night of the eighteenth?”
    There was a pause while Shar checked her calendar. “Sure. Why?”
    “Because I’ve got two VIP tickets that I can’t use for ‘The Bachelor Pad’—the Closing Night performance that Saturday night and the private party afterward. I thought maybe you and Elsie might like—”
    “How did you get those?” she interrupted.
    “From Dane Tyler. It’s, um, kind of a long story.”
    The shocked silence on the other end of the line let me know that my words hadn’t gone unheard. Finally, Shar said, “I’m leaving now. There will be no Ryan Reynolds and no ice cream until I hear this story. In its entirety. That means Every. Flipping. Detail. Got it, girlfriend?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. See you in five minutes.”

Chapter Eight

    By the time Shar had finished grilling me on everything that had happened and every word that had