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The truth was, he belonged with the twenty-one-year-old blond model from the photo. She of the designer dress and pert tits. Mine were too heavy for any of that nonsense and had a tendency to get away from me without underwire. And let’s not even discuss my ass or thighs. Liking Garrett in any way outside of friendship had been nothing more than a fever dream. And now it was over.
I took a sip of coffee and raised my hand as Claude walked in the door, followed by Cézanne and Linda. Shit.
“Why are you all here?” I asked. “Apart from you, Claude. I can smell the pecan pie. Yum.”
He set the selection of boxes down on the counter. “I’ll have an espresso when you’re ready.”
I gave him a smile. “You got it.”
“You turned off your cell,” said Cézanne. “We’re assuming it’s because you were avoiding something. But in the process, you worried the crap out of all of your friends.”
“Dammit. Hang on.” I rushed out back to grab the offending item out of my purse. And sure enough, there was a mess of texts, voice messages, and missed calls. All of which revolved around Garrett and the photo. “Here’s the thing,” I said, heading back out front. “I don’t want to talk about it. Because there is nothing to talk about.”
“But you have feelings for him.” Linda hammered her fist on the counter in a sudden outburst of passion. “Goodness gracious, young lady. Own your emotions. Take pride in your heart. Never be ashamed to care about someone.”
“I don’t . . . We’re just friends.”
Cézanne made an indelicate noise. “Please. We know you. You don’t think we can tell when someone finally makes you wake up and pay attention again?”
“It was pretty obvious you were sweet on him, Ani,” said Claude. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“He’s a rich and famous rock star, and I’m me. It was never going to happen. I mean, the man could date anyone he wants.” I groaned. “How do you all even know about it at this hour? None of you have a great interest in celebrity gossip. Apart from Cézanne’s Pete Davidson fascination, which I share.”
“Josh saw it on the entertainment news channel late last night and activated the phone tree,” said Linda. “He’d be here now, but Mayor Carmichael’s truck broke down just out of town. Emma and Yong are busy with a sick baby, but send their love. And Magda and Ross are down at her sister’s place in Sacramento and wish you all the best.”
“What Ross actually said was that he hopes the rock star falls off the face of the earth, never to be seen again,” said Claude. “But he’s just hurting. You know how he loves a wedding.”
“Give me strength,” I whispered. “We’re just friends.”
All three of them gave me knowing looks. Ugh.
“Everyone knows and you’ve all been discussing it?” I asked.
Cézanne nodded. “Don’t pretend to be surprised. You knew what this town was like when you moved back here.”
I ever so subtly banged my forehead against the counter a couple of times. It didn’t help.
“Ani,” said Linda, rubbing my back. Her collection of silver bangles jingling all the while. “I’m sorry Neptune is creating chaos around relationships this month. But is it so difficult to accept that you are loved? That we want your hopes and dreams to come true?”
“You all have to promise not to say anything to him.” I straightened and stared them each in the eye. “It’s embarrassing enough that you’ve all been talking about it behind my back.”
“Well, now . . .” Claude pinched his lips between his fingers.
“Claude,” I admonished. “Promise me. Please.”
“Oh, all right then. But he could do with someone sitting him down and having a serious man-to-man talk.”
“Don’t look at me,” said Cézanne. “You know I’ll behave. Though I’d dearly love to knee him in the nuts for you.”
I snorted. “The sentiment is appreciated.”
“Whatever you say, dear,” said Linda. “I’ll communicate your wishes to the group chat.”
“Thank you.” I relaxed a little. “Really. Thank you for caring. Now let’s never talk about it ever again.”
A storm rolled in Saturday afternoon along with my neighbor. Twilight was coming on quickly, care of the gray sky. I watched his Range Rover drive through the muddy puddles on our road, pause at the security gate, then head on inside. And I did all of this hiding behind my curtain like a creeper, because apparently that’s where I was at in life.
My week post–news of the photos hitting the internet had been average. I comfort-ate half a pecan pie and binged several seasons of Schitt’s Creek. The ones with Patrick in them. But not even he and David and their love story could make me smile.
And now Garrett was home. Okay. But wait . . .
