“Something just isn’t right here.” Brynn leans back in her chair and folds her arms in front of her chest.
“I’m with you.” Poppy—who is beautiful and lovely and meeting me at a personal low point—takes a sip of whatever nonalcoholic concoction Brynn made for her. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“How does it not make sense?” My nerves are raw and it’s taking effort that I don’t have not to snap at these well-meaning, but not all that helpful, women. “Quinton has now rejected me twice. Once when I wasn’t even trying and again when I threw myself at him. I’m pretty sure the only thing that doesn’t make sense is how surprised we all seem to be here.”
“No. You’re wrong. After the game on Sunday, his face fell when you weren’t with Donny. Then, yesterday, I did not imagine the way he watched you from across the room or the way he trailed behind you just so, keeping his eyes plastered on you, but not in a creepy way.” Brynn tosses her napkin on her now empty plate and pushes out of her chair. “And the way he was with your neighbor? That all said he wants you. He had huge donors begging to spend time with him and he ignored them all to talk to Mrs. Rafter.”
Liv and Marie—my beautiful, loyal, concerned friends—suck in air through their teeth. The hiss of breath cuts through the air and slices my heart.
“Mrs. Rafter was there?” Marie asks.
“Who’s Mrs. Rafter?” Vonnie’s eyes bounce back and forth between me and Marie.
Liv ignores Vonnie’s question. “You called her? Why wouldn’t you tell us?” Liv’s always solid and confident voice trembles.
“I didn’t call her.” I focus on the loose thread on the hem on my sweater. “I ran into her at Stanley’s when I was meeting Quinton about the event. Hence why she was there, he got a front-row seat to our reunion.”
“Oh fucking hell,” Marie says on an exhale.
“I’m sure you handled that well.” Liv picks up the drink she’s been nursing and takes a giant gulp.
“Yup.” My laugh shows just how well I did not handle it and that whiskey looks even better. “I flipped out. It was not my finest moment.”
“Hold on!” Vonnie hits the table, not one to be ignored or left out. “Who is Mrs. Rafter and why do all of you look like you’re about to fucking cry?”
Neither Marie nor Liv open their mouths to answer. Whatever I say is what they will go with. They’re not going to push this. And it’s on the tip of my tongue to say nobody and start to talk about Quinton again because I know that will distract them. But then I remember the way Vonnie cried in silence at the game when I first met her, and the way she worked so hard to hide it from everyone. I don’t expect her to open up to me, I barely know her. But I know how concerned Brynn is and maybe, if I can talk about this, it will help her open up about whatever’s been bothering her when the time is right. Lead by example, and all that other stuff I hated when my dad would tell me.
“Mrs. Rafter was my neighbor.”
“Oooookay.” She nods. “I got that part. So you moved? I don’t understand why seeing an old neighbor is such a big deal.”
“She was more like a grandma. She lived next door my entire life. She even spent Christmas mornings with us. But when my dad died last February, I sold the house and never went back. I also didn’t answer or return her calls. I thought avoiding everything that reminded me of my dad would make coping easier.”
Considering I never even told my therapist about Mrs. Rafter or the way I vanished after my dad’s funeral, this is a really big deal for me. And from the way Vonnie’s eyes go wide and then soft, she knows it too.
“Oh, fucking hell.” Poppy grabs a napkin off the table and dabs her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually a crier, but when I’m pregnant, my tear ducts don’t go offline.”
“I didn’t know your dad died,” Brynn says. She’s sitting in her seat again.
“Yeah, cancer. We knew it was coming.” I grab my water, really, really wishing I’d given in and ordered booze. “Three days after the championship. The game was the last thing we did together before he fell asleep and didn’t wake up again.”
“Shit, girl.” Vonnie closes her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“’Tis life.” I shrug, trying to keep my mask on and stay nonchalant about everything. People die every day. It’s the only guarantee there is in life.
Also, I do not need to cry in HERS.
“Wait.” Brynn leans forward. “You’re telling me that Quinton heard your reunion with your sweet, old lady neighbor?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
“During this reunion, did he hear any details about your dad?” she asks.
“Well, yeah.” My eyebrows scrunch together. I have no idea where she’s going with this. “I don’t know exactly when he got there, but I’m pretty sure he heard it all.”
“And I’m going to assume you cried?” she presses.
I shrug. I don’t like to cry, but I feel like tears in that circumstance were called for. “Well, yeah. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” She waves me off, which I think is kind of rude, but when I look around the table and everyone is sitting up straighter and nodding along with Detective Sterling over here, I realize I’m the only one not following her. “So you’re telling us that you had a full meltdown in front of Q about your dad with the neighbor who was like your grandma. And, instead of running or pretending he didn’t hear any of it—which he could’ve done because you didn’t realize he was there—he invited her to his exclusive event, blew off donors to make her feel comfortable, and placed her at the VIP table. All because why? He doesn’t like you?” She
