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“What? They have something important going on? They have a good reason? Well, so do I.”

Her mother’s nostrils fluttered. “Sophie, please don’t be petulant. It’s unattractive.”

Marnie turned on the heel of her designer pump and marched back into the kitchen.

Confusion temporarily dampened Sophie’s anger as she absorbed the blunt truth that her own parents seemed to think she didn’t matter.

Were they really still that mad at her for not finishing law school? Was that what all of this was about? Was having a daughter they could brag about at the country club really more important than said daughter’s happiness?

Sophie knew that they loved her, of course. She could always count on them to come help her out if she got a flat tire, or needed help moving, or nearly chopped her fingers off while cutting parsley. But caring was no longer enough for Sophie.

She wandered into the kitchen and poured herself a generous glass of wine. Her family was deep in a riveting conversation about “the club’s” upcoming tennis tournament. Sophie started to tune out, but their ignoring her was like Miracle-Gro on her little seed of anger.

The four of them had used to all play tennis together. And the real kicker was that Sophie was better than all of them. Something they’d conveniently forgotten since she didn’t play at “the club.”

“Do you guys need another person?” she blurted out.

Three pairs of startled eyes fell on her. Their confused expressions burned into her and gave her courage. “What? I’m pretty sure my backhand still beats all of yours.”

“Sophie, hon, you have to be a member to play,” her dad said gently.

“Oh.” She’d forgotten that part. “Is that like really expensive or something?”

She already knew that a membership to their country club was out of the question. Especially since she was now unemployed. “Well, it’d be nice to be included as a guest once in a while,” she said softly.

“Sure, you can come with me anytime,” Brynn said smoothly. “I didn’t realize you still played.”

Probably because you’ve never bothered to ask.

“Where’s Will?” Marnie asked, setting a platter of avocado crostini in front of them. “These are his favorite. He’s usually here by now.”

Sophie snagged a piece of bread and got ready to drop her bomb. “Will moved to Boston.”

The reaction to this announcement would have been comical had she not been so annoyed with the lot of them. Marnie’s salad tongs were frozen in midair. Her father’s crostini seemed stuck halfway to his mouth. Brynn’s crystal wineglass was now in a million pieces at her feet.

“What do you mean, he’s moved to Boston?” Chris said as Marnie rushed to help Brynn clean up. “We just saw him last Sunday and he didn’t say a word about it.”

To me either, Sophie thought.

Will had come by last night to say good-bye, catching Sophie completely off guard. Her best friend was moving across the country and hadn’t breathed a word about it. In the span of a week he’d put his town house on the market, sold his car, hired movers, and signed a lease on an apartment in downtown Boston that he’d never even seen.

But it had taken about five seconds to see that this wasn’t a careless move.

Spontaneous, yes. Slightly insane, sure. But she knew Will better than anyone, and if he was making a move like this, it was for good reason. It had stung that he hadn’t been able to share that reason, but Sophie hadn’t pushed. She hadn’t exactly been spilling her guts to him lately either. Even the best of friends were allowed their secrets.

“He’s sorry he didn’t say good-bye,” Sophie said to her still-stunned family.

That Will hadn’t been able to stick around to say good-bye to her family still confused her. The Daltons were the only family Will had. She’d begged him to postpone his flight by a day to say good-bye in person, but he’d insisted he had to get to Boston immediately.

“Well, that’s just…just…I don’t know what to say,” her mother sputtered, speechless for once.

“He said he’ll be back someday, Mom,” Sophie said gently. “And I’m sure he’ll come visit.”

Marnie just shook her head and went back to dressing her salad with a shell-shocked expression. Chris returned to watching his baseball game with a forlorn look. Nobody else in the family could tolerate his reciting of sports stats like Will could.

Brynn was washing spilled wine off her hands. Or at least that’s what she was supposed to be doing. It looked a lot like staring out the window looking ready to puke while letting the water run.

“You okay, Brynny?” Sophie asked.

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