“Don’t give up on yourself,” Delia says. “If they don’t like what they see, that’s their problem.”
I could contradict her. I could point out that them not liking me is very much my problem, considering it affects my entire future. But I nod, instead, because throwing kindness back in people’s faces isn’t my style. And because if I’ve changed Delia’s mind, maybe that’s enough.
“We’ll see you in there,” Red says, and the two walk toward the auditorium.
A voice calls out to someone behind me, and I turn to see the mayor—Tucker’s grandfather—walking into the auditorium, flanked by a couple of council members I don’t know well. A woman in teal with the mayor tips her head toward me but doesn’t stop.
The mayor doesn’t look my way.
Trailing behind him, though, are Serena and Tucker. And Serena can’t help herself.
She looks like an angel in white. While I’m the dummy who decided to wear red. Like the devil she’s trying to paint me as.
When she gives me a little smirk, I pretend not to notice.
I pull up my text thread with Meryl.
KAYLA
I’m about to go into the lions’ den. Except they’re angry baseball fans, not actual lions. Got any gold leaf armor?
I stare at the unsent message. Frown at it.
Then I put my phone on my lap.
I take a long sip of my Green Goals, forcing my throat to open, to release the lumps and pain and self-consciousness that have been stuck there for days. Months, really.
It would be so easy to text Meryl. To find comfort in that easy friendship. Meryl was a gift—a blessing—to me for so long.
But I worry our friendship has become an anchor.
One I need to cut, at least for now.
She’s not my only real friend anymore, and if I keep turning to her for comfort instead of accepting the friendships that are forming in front of my eyes, I’ll always have one foot out with this town.
I take another drink of my smoothie. A smoothie that was bought for me by Delia, of all people, at the request of my husband.
Sean.
A man who knows me well enough to know that I’ve been having a hard time eating with him not around. To sense I was both sick to my stomach and starving.
A man who’s thinking about me, taking time out of his schedule, when he’s busy with the biggest week of his career. He’s in the middle of a make-or-break evaluation that will decide if he ever plays professional hockey again, and he’s thinking about me.
How did I get so lucky?
And why am I worried about what anyone else could think about me when I’ve somehow managed to marry a man who’s intuitive and thoughtful and has spent a lifetime noticing and serving other people? A man whose shoulders only seem to get stronger the more he bears my burdens? Whose heart only seems to grow the more of it he gives away?
Sean thinks about, notices, serves me,choosesme every day. He’s helped me find a community of people who love me.
And I’m worried about fitting in with people who … don’t?
I’ve been so busy trying to prove I belong that I forgot who I belong with.
“Mrs. Carville? The mayor’s ready.”
I look down at my phone …
And delete the message to Meryl.
