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“Would you stop it?” I turn toward the bathroom so I can hide the guilt I know is showing on my face. I toss an idea over my shoulder. “Kara, you go. Take my deposit. Riley, will your travel agent let her apply it to her own ticket?” At least it wouldn’t go to waste that way.
“No.” Kara shakes her head. “You don’t understand. My cash flow is zilch.”
“I can help.” Riley announces, and she says it in her usual awesome way, the one which doesn’t make anyone feel like shit.
“No. I can’t let you do that.” Kara’s proud that way. “I’ll be here. I’ll keep an eye on the place.”
Tears spring to my eyes, I turn back their way. “You guys are too much. And by guys, I mean, fucking most awesomest bitches ever.”
I hold my arms out and run into Kara’s and Riley’s open arms. Cherise jumps off the couch and joins the group hug.
“When we all get back, we can check out the new bar,” Kara says.
I look at Riley for an explanation and wonder why I’m always the last one to know.
“It’s not really a new-new bar.” Riley shrugs. “It’s the old one on Thirty-Fourth.”
“I didn’t even know it closed.”
“Yeah, I guess it has a new owner,” Riley continues with her news delivery. “And a very hot bartender.” She shrugs. “Not that I’m interested, what with having Graham and all.”
I want to shudder. Actually, I want to stick my finger in my mouth and make vomit noises, but I practice self-restraint. “No kidding. Okay, we’ll have to go some time.” Like I care about that, which I don’t. My every thought and action are focused on seeing Josh again.
And I still don’t tell them about Josh. Which leaves me feeling like a shitty friend. I’ll catch them up on him after the holidays.
When we’re back together again. I shove aside the thought of the pregnant blonde.
* * *
Cherise picksup her bag and throws it into her beat-up Honda. “See you guys in a couple of weeks.” She’s going home for the holidays. She actually enjoys going home.
I toss my bag into the back seat of my own piece of crap on four wheels. It’s Jeremy’s hand-me-down car. I can’t complain. He took good care of it, so it’s been good to me. And it didn’t cost me a penny. And boy-oh-boy, did I learn my lesson this time. I’m my own ride, so I can come and go as I please without having to borrow a car and deal with the scrutiny.
I wish Liam was coming. Oh well, at least Jeremy will be there, and I’m looking forward to seeing Josh. I have visions of days walking on the beach, even if it is too cold to get in the water. I imagine the evenings under the bridge, catching up. Sort of catching up. There are things—many things—I don’t really want to share with him. Ever. And there’s a thing or two that I have to share with him, because it’s the right thing to do.
When I pull into my parents’ place, the first thing I look for is Jeremy’s car—not Liam’s motorcycle—since I know that Liam’s not coming down. It’s not in the driveway. Mom’s is. Dad’s is. But no Jeremy. That brat better be here. I don’t want to be the sole recipient of all the attention—good or bad.
Grabbing my bag, I head in without knocking. Mom’s at her computer and her realtor webpage is on the monitor.
Dad’s in his recliner, watching some history show.
“Hey, Cassie.” He gets up to give me a hug.
Mom waves me over. I walk up to her. She leans out and offers me her cheek. I plant a kiss on her unlined face. Good genetics, I guess.
“How was the drive?” She clicks on the picture of a home and types a few words under the listing.
“It was good. Where’s Jeremy?”
Her face sours, a frown prevalent. “He’s not coming. Double time on the rig. He said he wanted to make extra money.”
Oh, boy. Now he’s gone and done it. Pissed her off and left me hanging. Just me and my parents.
“What happened to the trip you were going to take with Riley?”
Momloves-loves-looovesRiley. Who wouldn’t? She’s a sweetie, and rich. The rich part is the part that enchants Mom. And then Mom met Graham the day that Riley and I moved into the apartment. For months all I ever heard was, why don’t you find a sweet young man like Graham? I know what she really meant was, please don’t ever find anyone like Josh again.
I make for my old bedroom and drop the bag on the floor by the couch. It doesn’t look like my old bedroom anymore. Right after I moved out, Mom turned it into a library. One step closer to being cultured. At least there’s a couch that turns into a sleeper.
