“Alex wait,” Finley calls after me.
I turn as she shuts the oven door and sets a timer. “I haven’t minded making your family drinks. It’s the least I can do after all the hospitality they’ve shown me.” She wrinkles her nose. “Besides, the drinks weren’t perfect since I don’t have an espresso machine.”
“We can get one,” Mallory says, her eyes lighting up. “And Finley can teach us before she goes home.”
I know what good espresso machines cost, so I doubt Dad will spring for one, but I’m not going to be the one to tell her.
“If you’re just wanting a plain cup of coffee,” Finley says, still standing in front of the oven. “I can use the French press.”
I gape at my mother. “Where did you get a French press?”
She waves a hand dismissively. “My friend Jennifer gave it to me a couple of years ago. It’s been gathering dust in the cabinet, but Finley showed me how to use it. Isn’t she resourceful?”
“Yep. She sure is.”
The words feel stiff in my mouth. I don’t like the idea of her waiting on me. Especially after she took care of me last night. She already thinks I look down on her—having her serve me like a customer at Beans to Go only reinforces that.
Finley scoops grounds into the press’s glass carafe.
“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” Mom asks. “I could warm up a muffin.”
“No.” The thought of food still makes my stomach churn. “Coffee’s fine.”
I slump onto a stool while Finley works her magic. Mallory is mixing something in a bowl, and she shoots me a sly look. “Where’d you sneak off to last night? I heard you come home pretty late.”
Mom’s mouth drops open. “How late? Did something happen on your run?” Her voice rises. “I knew you shouldn’t have gone out running in the dark.”
“Nothing happened,” I say, adding a light laugh to calm her down. The last thing she needs to know is that I got plastered. “I ran into Curtis, and we had a drink at St. Nick’s.”
Her face brightens instantly. Curtis practically lived here growing up. She even called him her fourth son. “How is Curtis? I haven’t seen him in at least a year.”
“He’s good,” I say, propping my chin on my hand at the counter. “He’s teaching at the high school.”
The words taste dry, like gravel. Because I know what she doesn’t: Curtis doesn’t think much of me anymore. Not after last night.
“I’d heard that.” She dusts off her hands as she reaches for a measuring spoon. “What’s he teaching? Science?”
I realize I never asked. Then again, the whole conversation had gone downhill pretty fast. “I don’t know. He just said he’s well equipped to handle teenage boys and any tricks they try to pull, since we tried them first.”
She rolls her eyes. “You two got into more than your fair share of mischief, so I guess he’d know.” She adds a teaspoon of something to the bowl. “I’m pretty sure I heard he’s an assistant coach on the middle-school basketball team.” She looks up and sees the surprise on my face. “He didn’t tell you?”
“No,” I say, feeling like a shitty friend. The more questions she asks, the more obvious it will be that we didn’t spend hours catching up. “He was too busy telling me about his boyfriend.”
A frown creases her forehead. “His last boyfriend was so awful to him. I hope this new one’s better.”
“Curtis seems pretty happy,” I say. “In fact, this isn’t public information, but there might be a wedding in their future.”
She claps her hands in delight. “Oh! That’s wonderful news. His mother will be thrilled.”
“I wonder what kind of wedding he’ll have,” Mallory says.
“I didn’t think to ask.” Six years ago, he would have asked me to stand up with him at his wedding. Now I’ll be lucky to get an invite. Something sharp and heavy knots in my chest.
“Are you two getting together again before you head back to Atlanta?” Mom asks.
That’s highly doubtful, but I’m not going to admit to it. “Probably not. I told him I’m here with Finley, so I won’t have much free time.”
“Maybe you and Finley could meet up with Curtis and his boyfriend,” Mom suggests.
