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“Exactly.” She grinned and reached for another wing.
“How has your dad been about you calling off your wedding?” Sariah asked. “Or is that not something you want to talk about?”
“No, I don’t mind talking about it. He’s still convinced I’m hormonal or something. My mom has pretty much come around, so my dad will eventually.”
Sariah gave Jolie a sympathetic look. “Good. If it wasn’t right for you, you definitely made the right call.”
“Your gift is on the way back to you,” Jolie assured her.
Sariah waved a hand. “Who cares about the gift? What matters is that you’re okay.”
“I appreciate that,” Jolie said. “I’m great.”
After another beer and more conversation, she took out her wallet and reached for some cash.
“No, I’ve got it,” I said, putting a palm up.
“No, take this.”
She offered me thirty dollars.
“No, seriously, I’ve got it. I’m sure we’ll all go out again and you can get me back if you want.”
She looked wary but then put the money away, saying, “Okay, thanks.”
I wasn’t going to let her pay next time, but I knew it was the only way she’d let me pick up the check this time. And even though I wanted to offer her a ride home and maybe get an invite back to her place, I kept my mouth shut.
It was a risk I couldn’t take. Whatever the hellfetchwas, Jolie and I were like that.
Never going to happen.
CHAPTERSIX
Jolie
Grandma Gand I had started our monthly lunch dates when I was young. Back when my grandfather was alive and she’d still been driving. Until I was around twelve, our lunch dates consisted of an early movie and a late lunch, and we’d alternate who got to pick the movie. As I moved into my teens, we’d sometimes substitute shopping for the movie, and once she even went roller-skating with me and my friends.
She’d slowed down a lot in the last five or six years, but I still enjoyed the hell out of our time together.
I hadn’t thought we’d get together this month because of the wedding and everything else, but when she’d called yesterday, I’d been happy to make time for her. She waved as I pulled up to the front of the building she lived in and she hopped into my Jeep like she owned it.
“Hi.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“I love that scarf,” I told her, referring to the long, red-and-purple scarf with an abstract design.
“Thank you. Your father brought it back for me from Iceland when he and your mother went a couple of years ago.”
“I didn’t even get a gift from that trip,” I said, laughing as I put the Jeep in gear.
“Well, I guess we know who your dad’s favorite mom is,” she quipped.
“No doubt about that.”
“How are you doing, sweetie?”
“I’m good. Better than I thought I’d be.”
“Has your father settled down at all after the Jarvis fiasco?”
