Smiling at the visual I mutter, “If their boyfriends found out, they would be hurt and that’s enough reason to never do it.”
“Okay, we are not going to agree on this.”
“Fine.”
Silence before she also mutters, “Fine.”
Now I feel terrible, and while I won’t budge on this issue I don’t want to lose my friend over it for even a minute. “People aren’t perfect. I get it. I just don’t think cheating is ever okay. But hey, I still love you even if I don’t agree with you.”
Eleanor’s voice softens, “I know. I love you, too. Just try not to be so perfect all the time. Nobody can live up to it. Life isn’t black and white.”
“I know it isn’t, and I am far from perfect, but you know the saying: If you don’t stand for something you’ll fall for anything.” Combing my crunchy hair with my fingers I sigh and offer, “Look, the only thing that matters is I will never cheat on Peter. I’m sure he knows that, and now Eric does, too.”
“He came onto you pretty hard, huh?”
My eyes glaze over as images of this afternoon fly by. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Was he obvious about it?”
“Kinda.” I pause. “Very.”
“Oooooo, I bet all the girls hated your guts today. I got enough looks when Dion hit me up, but Eric is the prize they all want.”
Curious I ask, “Do you want him too?” I don’t know why I’m holding my breath for her answer, but I am.
She laughs, “I like my men dark,” and then her voice abruptly becomes maternal, “Oh sweetie, did I wake you up, Tia? I’m sorry, I’m talking to my friend. Want me to tuck you into bed? Wren, I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“Of course,” I smile, “Give her a hug from me.”
“Tia, your auntie Wren says to give you a hug, come here,” and the phone goes dark.
Leaning here I gaze at the small flower vase centered on my table for two. I snipped those blossoms with my fingertips, two yellow, one lavender and two white. So pretty. They really warm up the space.
You’re stalling.
Just call him.
My thumb hovers over Peter’s name in my favorites folder.
He hasn’t called all day.
I’d rather wait.
Yeah, I’ll wait.
Thumb, what are you doing?
Cut it out.
Oh, motherfucker.
“Peter? Hi, just wanted to see how your weekend has been.”
Friendly as usual, he says, “It was great! My band and I drove to Savannah for the night yesterday.”
Frowning I push off the counter and sit on one of my two chairs. “You did? What brought that on?”
“John and Tim got a room and invited me to join. You know you can walk around with alcoholic beverages just like in New Orleans?”
“I didn’t know that,” I mutter, picking at my crusty jeans. “Did you have fun?” I ask trying not to sound hurt that he didn’t tell me he’d left town.
“Amazing time! Stayed up until five, out by the water after the bars closed. Such a great place. I mean, it’s not the party hub that Mardi Gras is, but…” He trails off.
“Right.” Biting my lip I remind him, “You’ve never been to New Orleans, I thought.”
“Well, no, but I’ve heard things. I plan to go next year.”
And will you invite me then?
“You should,” I smile, blinking way too much. “Listen, I have to go. Just got home from a double and Mott LaRock spilled booze all over me and…” I stop talking, realizing I’m about to stoop to the low point of making Peter jealous about Eric. Hypocrite, table for one? Oof. And Eleanor called me perfect. Yeah, right.
“You served the Falcons? No way! What are they like?”
Unbuttoning my jeans I push my pants down, panties tugging halfway with them. Wriggling free I mutter, “One of them purposefully doused me, that’s what they’re like. I just have to get out of this bra. Wait a sec, ‘kay?”
He mumbles, “Wren I’ve gotta run. The guys are knocking on the bathroom door.”
“Why are you taking my call in the bathroom?”
“What kind of question is that? I was in here already. It’s not like I’m hiding you or anything.”
“Of course not,” I whisper, instinctually feeling that is what he’s doing. But that doesn’t make sense. His bandmates know me. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly.”
“Yeah you are,” he laughs. “Listen I gotta go.” He adds a stilted “I’ll call tomorrow,” and hangs up.
Silent I stand alone in my kitchen, half naked and all the way confused.
Trudging to a shower, I spin the faucet to skin-scorching hot, talking to myself. “Oh sure, Peter knows how lucky he is. Totally knows.”
CHAPTER 8
ERIC
M y sister excitedly tells me, “The sale is finally going through,” as we enter the foyer she and her geezer have in escrow. “The sellers fought us on the price we bid after we discovered it needs some work, but now,” she claps her hands, spreading her arms to full wing span as we stroll into the empty living room. “it’s finally ours!”
“So…should I feel left out now or later?”
Emma frowns, “What do you mean?”
Inspecting the high ceilings I suck on my teeth. “It’s nice, Emm.”
“Nice evasion.” She crosses her arms, professional dress bunching up, matching heels spread in a confrontational stance. Right now she looks more realtor than family member. “Clarify that. You feel left out? Because I’m engaged?”
Heading into an oversized space that will soon be a dining room I say over my shoulder, “You, Ethan, Hannah, doors away from each other, all on the same block. I couldn’t give two shits that you’re married. I’m happy for you guys if that’s what you’re into. But did you have to all cozy up for parenthood in a cocoon of your own design?” Strolling into the empty kitchen next, I glance around and spot an enclosed back patio. “That’s pretty cool.”
“Thank you,” she quietly nods, walking to pick up color swatches next to the sink for something to do because she’s uncomfortable. “Eric, it didn’t
