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“Being single is only powerful when you want to be single,” Grace muttered back.
“Says the woman who didn’t fight for her man.”
Grace set her hot dog in her lap so she could turn and give her friend a full-on glare. “I told you. He was going to Costa Rica. Then Argentina. Then God knows where. And he wasn’t exactly all ‘Oh, Grace, please come along.’ Hell, he wasn’t even all ‘Oh, Grace, will you wait for me?’ It was just boom. Gone.”
Julie took a bite of her hot dog. “He might’ve stayed if you’d told him.”
“Told him what?” Mitchell asked, taking a drink of beer without ever taking his eyes off the game. Mitchell was a die-hard Yankee fan. Probably the only one in their little group who was.
“She’s in love,” Julie said.
Grace’s chest went tight. “I’m not.”
Even Mitchell glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.
Okay, so that hadn’t been all that convincing.
“I don’t want to be in love,” she corrected. There. That was more precise.
“Neither does Riley, but look at that train wreck,” Julie said, gesturing with her cup to several rows in front of them, where Riley and Sam Compton were in yet another heated argument over a foul ball.
“Does Riley even know what a foul ball is?” Mitchell asked.
“No,” Julie replied. “But if Sam says it’s foul, she’d go to her grave claiming otherwise.”
“She looks possessed,” Mitchell said.
Grace smiled in spite of her bad mood as she took in her best friend’s tantrum. Riley’s long wavy black hair was pulled into a ponytail and threaded back through the hole in her ancient Yankees cap like she was a little kid. However, the curvy body under the too-tight Jeter jersey and skintight jeans definitely did not belong to a kid. Neither did the choice four-letter words spewing out of her mouth as she and Sam continued their spat.
“Why’d she invite him if she hates him so much?” Mitchell asked, turning his attention back to the game.
Grace and Julie turned to stare at him.
“What?” he asked, sensing both of their gapes.
“Even after all we’ve been through, you’re so clueless,” Julie said in awe.
“What am I missing?”
“That’s not hate,” Grace said, gesturing between Riley and her childhood frenemy. “That’s a little something we relationship experts like to call sexual tension.”
Julie nodded. “Except since this particular tension has been unrelieved for, oh, about ten years, it’s sort of morphed into this explosive dynamite-type situation.”
“So why don’t they just do it already? Take the edge off?” Mitchell asked, his attention already back on the game.
“Great idea, honey,” Julie said, patting his knee. “Why don’t you go ahead and suggest that. Oh, while you’re at it, maybe mention your grand plan to Liam, too.”
“Who’s Liam again?”
“Sam’s best friend and Riley’s big brother. And when I say big brother, I mean that in the overprotective, don’t-touch-my-baby-sister-and-I’ll-let-you-live kind of way.”
“Jeez, they have even more drama than Emma and Alex.”
Two female heads once again turned to gape at Mitchell.
“Emma Sinclair?” Julie asked. “As in our near and dear new friend?”
“Yeah.”
