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She was right. Sophie looked around and saw that nobody seemed very interested. Only one face turned toward her, a woman Sophie recognized as a library patron. But that woman just gave a chagrined smile and looked back to her drink.
But Sophie was unconvinced. “They’re probably waiting for a few more people to get here to be sure the mob is effective.”
“Or it’s really not as big a deal as you think it is.”
Sophie felt almost resentful of that. It was a big deal. It was a goddamn community disaster.
Or just a personal embarrassment, she chided herself. She slumped in her chair as Isabelle returned with drinks. “A martini for Sophie, and beers for us. Well, one beer for you, Lauren. You’re driving.”
“Hey, you have to drive home from my place.”
Isabelle shrugged. “I’ll crash on your couch if I need to.”
“Only because Jake is working overnight. Otherwise, I’d kick your ass right out. Speaking of overnight friends...” Her gaze slid to Sophie. “Did Alex ever find you yesterday?”
Sophie shot Isabelle a panicked look, but she seemed unsurprised. Right. Everyone knew now. She only raised interested eyebrows.
Sophie tried to look just as casual. “Was he looking for me?”
“Yes. I came by your house and he was there.”
“Well, he didn’t find me, so he left town.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. ‘Ah.’ And then I came home last night and found his mother sitting in
my living room.”
Lauren gasped, while Isabelle muttered “No fucking way.”
Sophie felt a brief moment of vindication. That she wasn’t the bad one. That that woman was seriously wrong in so many ways. But then she felt guilty. “Guys, I think she’s truly unwell. She was confused. She thought I was my mom. She asked where her husband was.”
“Oh, no,” Lauren sighed.
“Yeah. I think maybe it’s something more than just meanness on her part. I guess time will tell. In the meantime, I expect to wake up to find the word slut spray-painted on my house any day now.”
“Who doesn’t?” Lauren offered with a sympathetic smile.
“Me,” Isabelle chimed in.
Sophie laughed then. Really laughed. She realized that half her martini was gone and her friends were smiling at her and she didn’t care who was looking. It really wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t a community disaster or even a personal one. At this point, twenty-five years removed from that awful day when two parents had gone missing, it was really just a sick old woman trying to work out her heartbreak however she could. She didn’t want to be alone with her hurt. Sophie couldn’t understand that, but maybe she could forgive it.
Isabelle took a swig of her beer and shook her head. “I can’t believe you had sex with a hot guy with tattoos. I hate you, Sophie. I hate both of you.”
Sophie patted her hand. “If you want a boyfriend, you need to get out and—”
“I don’t want a boyfriend. I’m terrible with men. I’m awkward and inattentive and not feminine and cute like you. I’ll be forty in a few years, for God’s sake. I just want to be used like a cheap rag. Several times a month. Is there a service for that? Dark room? No talking? Big cock?”
Sophie laughed again. And this time she couldn’t stop. She laid her head on her hands and laughed. Isabelle was so blunt about everything, but she’d never said anything like that before. But the laughter tipped over into tears. “Oh, God,” Sophie sobbed.
“Hey.” She felt Lauren’s hand on her back. “Are you okay?”
Sophie only laughed harder, but she raised her head as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Oh, good. I thought the memory of big cock had finally broken you.”
“He did come back last night,” Sophie said when she could finally breathe.
