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“Nah, I don’t think I’ll need to. I’m just going to head to Tate, and after that stop by that diner and then be on my way back home. I really gotta clock some work on another piece I’m doing for Esquire about how youth sports are becoming an elitist boondoggle before I head to my folks’ on Monday for Thanksgiving. I promised my mom the full week.”

Kwame lives less than an hour from his childhood home, but only makes it there every couple of months, something his mother is constantly harping on about. He promised her five full days—and no working—over the holiday visit. In exchange, she promised to make his favorite chili.

“How are your parents, by the way?” Simone asks.

“Ahh, same old same old. Since they retired, they’ve gotten into cruising, as a verb, and hitting up casinos where they’re losing my whole inheritance one slot machine at a time, but hey, if it’s fun for them… My mom asks about you.” All the time, he doesn’t say.

The day Kwame realized he’d made a massive mistake in breaking up with Simone, he’d gone to his mother hoping for soothing and wise words. Delores was having none of it. She sucked her teeth hard and said, “Boy! You and your hard head. You done messed up big-time. Only time and Jesus can help you now.” It was accurate, if not the most reassuring conversation he’d hoped for.

“Oh yeah?” Simone says. “Will you tell her I said hi? I always loved the woman, even if she seemed very disappointed that I wasn’t making you gourmet meals in my dorm room every night.”

“She wasn’t the only one disappointed about that.”

The warmth of the easy laughter and the nostalgia steam the windshield.

“If I have time after Tate, I’m going to try to make one more stop while I’m up this way. I wanna try to track down that waitress I mentioned. The diner’s family-owned, so someone may remember her. And it was connected to their family farm at one point, so I could drive up there and poke around. It’s in a town called Fredonia? You heard of it?”

Simone leans forward and puts one still-gloved hand on the dashboard. “Did you say Fredonia?”

“Uh, yeah, guess it’s about an hour or so north. You got a summer place up there or something?”

“Um, no, I’ve never been. What’s the woman’s name?”

“That’s the thing, I have no idea. Only that it maybe starts with an M.”

CHAPTER TEN SIMONE

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a smoking hot ex-boyfriend who’s still in love with you?” Taylor asks. She and Simone are on their second glass of a chilled Vinho Verde at Porter’s, their favorite neighborhood meetup spot. It’s a sweet, Parisian-style cafe where the waiters know their regular orders and always give them a hefty pour during happy hour.

“I didn’t say he’s still in love with me,” Simone replies, a flush climbing up her neck.

“You don’t have to.” Taylor leans in with a conspiratorial grin. “You think I don’t know my best friend? Nice try. You can’t hide anything from me.”

Simone loves when Taylor calls her her best friend; it’s the same way hearing Alex refer to her as “wife” always gave her a little rush back when they were newlyweds. Especially since Taylor has a ton of other friends, many of whom stretch back to elementary school, because that was the thing about Sawville—people never left, or if they did, they always came back. Taylor allowed Simone to greedily co-opt her posse of pals, but Simone hasn’t connected with any of them or anyone else she’s met the way she has with Taylor. All you need is to find one true friend. Her mother always told introverted Simone this at the start of each new school year or move, and she’s continued to appreciate this lesson in quality over quantity.

Simone laughs, loud and quick. “I’m not trying to hide anything, and he’s not still in love with me, we’re just—”

Taylor cuts her off. “Yeah, yeah, nice try. But his text messages tell a different story.”

“I don’t even know why I showed those to you, there’s nothing scandalous there. We were just setting up work stuff, a quick lunch…”

“Oh, there’s a lot happening in those texts. I’m reading between alllllll the lines, and it’s a whole dang book. Now answer my question: Why have you never told me about this man? It sounds like he was a big one for you… maybe still is?” Taylor asks gently, with the complete lack of judgment that is the prize and balm of true friendship.

Simone isn’t sure why she’s never brought up Kwame, other than it was both too much and too simple to explain. She could never decide on a tidy or coherent version of their story, and so she never told it. Besides, Kwame is her past, not at all a part of her life in Sawville; they are two different worlds. Until they decided to up and collide like this.

“I never expected Kwame to show up here investigating some half-century-old cold case and wanting to talk to my father-in-law about it. Honestly, I haven’t thought much about Kwame Walker in a decade.”

It’s a lie, and not even a convincing one.

“How is that possible? Look at him!” Taylor thrusts her phone into Simone’s face, revealing a series of professional headshots on the screen that honestly don’t even do him justice. That mustache about did her in every time she pulled up the picture, which was too many times. She wonders when he decided to grow it and shave it. That stupid patch of facial hair is a symbol of all she’s missed in his life. He could have a tattoo for all she knows. Or a girlfriend, though she doesn’t get that sense.

“Whatever happened between him and me is ancient history. And I am a happily married woman, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Yeah, you seem elated with Alex right now,” Taylor says, adding a pointed eyebrow arch she’s perfected from practice.

Taylor has been on the receiving end of more than a few weary phone calls the last couple weeks, listening as Simone unloaded about the fights she’s had with Alex and how distant he is. As nice as it’s been to have Taylor’s sympathetic ear, this is the downside, when your most intimate confessions come back at you with the sting of a rubber band snapping back. It makes Simone regret ever opening up. What does Taylor know about marriage? Her romantic life is a string of failed relationships with men who have too much swagger for their own good—or Taylor’s—and a handful of impossibly tall women. Not that Simone is judging, but there are, sadly, limits to what Taylor can understand about what she’s going through. It’s the same way when child-free Taylor tries to offer up parenting advice and Simone wants to scream a little inside despite how well-meaning it is.

“He’s not the only one falling short, though, Tee. I should have told him about meeting up with Kwame for the panel. He’s right to be mad about that.”