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“I’m sorry, but we aren’t taking walk ins.”
I quirk a brow at her and frown, confused. “You took me.”
She flushes bright red and her eyes dart around as if she’s looking for help. When none of her co-workers meet her pleading eyes, she looks back to me with resignation. “Because you’re… you. VIP. And now, we don’t have any bowls available.”
“It’s okay, Regan. Really,” Confidence puts a hand on my shoulder.
“No, it’s not. She can have my bowl. I don’t have anything more than a good book waiting for me. If you can make me an appointment for tomorrow?”
The girl turns to her coworkers and speaks to them in a rapid fire, authoritative voice that sends them scurrying.
“Of course, Mrs. Landel, what time tomorrow?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Confidence protests.
“You must. I insist.” I smile at the young woman. “I’ll call in the morning to see what ‘s available. “
I turn to Confidence, “I’ll just go get my things, so you can get started.”
“Thank you so much, Regan.” She’s bubbly with giddy relief and before I see it coming, her arms go around me in a hug of gratitude.
I’m so surprised, I stiffen. But only for a moment.
In the group of people I call friends, air kisses are the greeting of choice.
But boy…does she give good hugs.
Almost as good as Matty’s.
I’ve been so mad at her, but I wish I’d hugged her like this before she left. I roll my eyes at my own silliness. As if a hug would have healed everything between us.
I miss having girlfriends.
I’m tempted to nestle my head on her shoulder and tell her everything.
I pull away before I do or say something I’ll regret.
Confidence is smiling wide, and in a louder voice she says, “Is your husband here? We’ll be at the beach at 6pm. We’d love to have you.”
At the mention of my husband, Hayes and his brothers in the same sentence, my panic flares.
“He’s not here. And I’ve got a video call with my kids at the same time. I haven’t talked to them for a few days, so as much as I’d love to…” I lie. I wouldn’t love to. “Good luck tonight. It’s quite a feat you’re pulling off.”
“He’s my forever, and I just want him to be happy.” she says with a dreamy sigh that makes my dry husk of a heart wheeze in longing
“Oh, I’m sure he will be.”
She shakes her head in self- rebuke. “It’s ridiculous that you and I had to come all the way to Mexico to have our first conversation. Let’s have lunch when we’re all back home.” she says with so much sincerity that I can’t suppress the girlish hope that maybe, she means it.
“I’d love to,” I say but when she goes to hug me again, I lean in and press a kiss to each of her cheeks. Hugs are nice, but so are these, when you mean them.
She’s marrying a man very much like Marcel - a titan of industry, powerful and from an old, classist family that disinherits its heirs the way the Catholic Church used to excommunicate heretics.
But in all the ways that matter, he’s also very different. Every time I’ve seen them together, it is clear that he is beside himself with love for the little blond bombshell he’s marrying. And she returns his affection.
Yet, empire building is not for the faint of heart. Marcel and I might not have fared better if we’d had love on our side. Without it, we never stood a chance.
Confidence waves and disappears around a corner with the now fawning receptionist. I wave back and send her a silent wish for better luck with her billionaire titan than I had with mine.
