Where the hell had I been? Margie Ford was selling houses and married one of the Leftfoot brothers. “Congratulations”
Oz returned with my drink and I eagerly grabbed it from him, gulping half the bottle before taking a breath. My brain tuned out while Margie and my brother talked in excited tones about a bonfire. In Hume, bonfires, trips to the lake, and the annual parade were a big deal. There wasn’t shit to do in this town. We had one movie theater with three screens, a roller rink that was closed for renovations, and the Dairy Queen parking lot.
Oz turned his attention back to me. “I got us a table. Come on.”
I followed him closely, holding on to the tail of his shirt so we weren’t separated. We passed by the stage where Nancy Sparkswas singing bad karaoke to a Tanner Adell song. Sliding into the booth, I took a deep breath. I don’t know how he wrangled this table for how packed this place was, but as long as I could remember, people were drawn to Oz and wanted to be in his good graces. Maybe it was because he was as big as a black bear and hit just as hard.
He took a long drag from his Heineken. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You, back in Hume holed up in your room. Your frantic text exchange with Dylan.”
My eyes were fixed on the table. “We’re just going through a transition.”
“Meaning?”
I was never good at being nonchalant. If I was bothered, you’d know it. Releasing a big huff, I confessed. “Dylan cheated.”
“How do you know?”
“I caught him.”
His eyes tightened in the corners. “So you’re in Hume for what?”
“To think.”
“What’s there to think about? If Dylan doesn’t appreciate you, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“People make mistakes.”
“Cheating isn’t a mistake, it’s a choice.” Oz was a straight shooter, and he wasn’t one to mince words. Which is exactly why I didn’t want to share this with him. “Look I can take some time off and we could fly back to LA and pack up your stuff.”
I stiffened my gaze. “Why do I have to move?”
“We can pack up his shit if you prefer. I don’t really care.”
“I don’t know if I want to do that. I need to think it through.”
“What is there to think about? He lost the privilege of continued access to you.”
“I don’t know Oz, maybe I love him.”
He let out a thunderous belly laugh. “Right … an arrogant, two-timer is just so fucking lovable.”
“You don’t like Chap?”
“No, he’s an asshole.”
What was it with everyone disliking my boyfriend? Sure, he could be a bit abrasive, but he got shit done. That sandpaper personality is what secured most of our deals. And Chap wasn’t all thorns. He could be soft and sweet when he wanted to.
“Momma agrees with you.”
“I know she does. We’ve talked about it.”
“You two were talking about me behind my back?”
“Yes, I don’t know why you’re surprised. She and I have a standing brunch date once a month where we gossip and drink mimosas.”
