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“Why not? It’ll give you a chance to get to know Sophia better.”
I see red. “I know Sophia just fine. And besides, Piper is coming.”
He shrugs, unruffled. “The more the merrier.”
That’s it. I’ve had it with his carefree, offensive behavior. “You’re unbelievable.”
“That’s what she said,” he has the gall to reply.
He’s looking for a fight. I can read his body language. But I’m all out of fight. This person standing before me is not the man I believed him to be, so fighting him would be pointless…because I don’t know who I’m fighting for anymore.
“Dinner is at seven. It’ll be vegetarian.”
My admission catches him off guard. “You’re a vegetarian again?”
“Yes, there are a lot of things about me that’s changed,” I bite back confidently.
He’s speechless as I snatch back my cup of coffee from his hand and leave the room with my head held high.
It’s the first time in forever I’ve felt like me. And I like it.
* * * * *
At 6:59 p.m. I curse my confidence because there is no doubt in my mind that this dinner will be a complete disaster.
Needing to add a splash of color in my life, I decided to wear my favorite pastel green lace dress. It’s cut off at the sleeves with a high collared neckline. My makeup is minimal—nothing but powder on my cheeks, mascara, and peach ChapStick. As I slip on my cowboy boots, I hear the front door closing and the unmistakable bubbly voice of Piper.
I’ve missed her more than I thought possible.
I gave her a heads up about Saxon, thinking she’d cancel, but she didn’t seem concerned. I don’t know how she can remain so calm. But that’s Piper—-always the optimist.
My boots tap on the floorboards as I walk down the hallway, a sense of anticipation trailing behind me. I just want this dinner over with.
“Please tell me you made vegetarian lasagna?” Piper says, hands interlocked in front of her as I enter the kitchen.
I laugh. “Yes, I did.”
Her lips smack together. “Puts my store bought Key Lime to shame.” I look down at the pie, which looks delicious.
Sam opens a bottle of red, pouring us three glasses. When he fills my glass halfway, I indicate to fill it right up. He doesn’t argue, nor does he question my need to get wasted before dinner.
“How’s school, Pipe?” I ask, beginning to prepare the garden salad.
“It’s okay. Happy it’s my last year. Looking forward to earning some real cash.”
“What do you do?” Sam asks, genuinely curious.
“Interior design,” she replies. When she smirks, I know nothing good can come from this conversation. “I still think it’s so weird you don’t remember anything at all.”
“I remember some things,” he disputes.
“Just not the important things,” she counters.
Silence.
Well, this dinner has commenced just how I predicted it would. And when the backdoor swings open, it just goes from bad to worse.
“Hello my nearest and dearest,” Saxon quips, starting the night off on an uncomfortable note. I don’t bother turning around and busy myself with hacking into the tomatoes.
