Page 91 of Something Borrowed

“And you want them to still like you,” Vic blurted, then was immediately horrified. The wine, good food, and chat had definitely loosened her tongue. She didn’t want to show her needy side.

But Madeline and Gwen raised their glasses in a toast. “Exactly,” Madeline said.

“Connection,” Gwen agreed again. “The biggest human need.”

“It was terrible for people when I lost my family. They had no idea what to say in the face of such a huge tragedy. I know people felt so sad for me and for what happened, but I also had . . . zero grace or compassion for most things that came out of people’s mouths.” Madeline sighed heavily. “Or they’d extend so much sympathy, express so much sadness on my behalf that I’d almost feel trapped, like I should try to comfort them.”

“Ugh,” Vic said. “That’s awful.”

Madeline gave a small smile of agreement. “Now, with time, I have more grace—usually.” She shrugged. “At the time I just didn’t have it in me.”

Vic shuddered. “I still think I want to err on the side of saying something, though. I’d never want someone to feel like I’m ignoring their sorrow.”

Gwen sipped her wine. “Same. And since what one person finds comforting or consoling, someone else might find intrusive, we just have to blunder on the best we can.”

“I agree with that too—better to blunder on the side of showing love and care than to avoid topics just because they’re hard.”

Vic nodded vigorously. “It’s one of the things I so appreciate about you, Madeline. How you just say things, address things, even really hard things, matter-of-factly. It’s inspiring, really.”

“It is, for sure,” Gwen said.

“I’m trying to be more upfront in all areas of my life too.”

“Well, thank you both. It’s interesting because I don’t see myself that way at all. I see myself as a big ol’ chicken.”

Vic and Gwen both laughed. “Well, heaven help the world if you ever stop being ‘chicken’ then,” Gwen teased gently.

Madeline grinned. “Fair point.”

Conversation flowed to lighter things, but for Vic, it almost didn’t matter what they talked about. She just loved that they did talk—about everything. Funny stuff, serious stuff, all the stuff. Spending time with Madeline and Gwen made something very clear to Vic: she should’ve spent more of her life cultivating her friendships with women. Neglecting platonic friendship had been a mistake she’d never make again.

The house was dark when the cab dropped her off, and she slipped inside, happily buzzing with camaraderie and the lovely feeling of being a part of something.

She was headed upstairs for a quick shower, then bed, when Audra stepped into the hall, blocking her way, mouth pinched, face a storm cloud.

What now? Vic thought. And how long has she been lying in wait in the dark for me to come home?

“I knew it!” Audra said, her shrill voice a strange mix of victorious accusation.

“What did you know?”

“You were never serious about staying and helping me. You just can’t get out fast enough.”

For flip’s sake. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you before you sailed out of here like the Queen of Sheba earlier! I heard you!

“What?”

“Turning down some rental place. Don’t try to deny it! And now you’ve been out all night, doing who knows what. Planning your new digs most likely.”

It took Vic a solid minute to figure out what Audra was talking about, and then she was incredulous. “Are you referring to my message to Cal earlier about his sister’s place? As you said, I turned it down. You heard me.”

“If someone offered you a place, obviously you’ve told people you’re looking for one—or why would they tell you?”

Vic glanced at her phone. But the hour didn’t really matter. It was time. Past time.

“Please sit down, Mom. We need to have a conversation.”