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He frowns as he stares at the screen. He watches himself laugh and talk and then turn his attention to the girl’s behind.
I’m so angry that the whole sky has turned crimson.
“So you just fucking lie to me?” he growls. “I thought you were engaged this whole fucking time.”
“You were never going to call me anyway, Henley. What does it matter?”
“I might have.”
“Who on earth do you think you are? You might have . . . pfft. Fuck you,” I huff. I turn and storm toward my house, infuriated.
“Get back here and clean this mess up.”
I flick him the bird and keep walking.
Clean it yourself.
Ugh, why did I agree to this stupid welcome party?
It’s Saturday, and I can see everyone walking across the road to Carol’s house with their platters of food.
I’m dreading this with a passion.
I haven’t spoken to Henley since our fight over Barry. And now I have to go and pretend to everyone that I like him when all I really want to do is tip a drink over his entitled-asshole head.
I take one last look in the mirror and exhale heavily.
All right, I look good.
Feminine while not trying to be sexy. I’m done with being sexy on this street. The appropriate outfit for me right now would actually be a straitjacket, but whatever. This pink maxi dress will work just fine. It’s full and flowing, long, with spaghetti straps.
I grab my platter of hors d’oeuvres and, with my heart in my throat, make my way over to Carol’s house. The sound of chatter echoes through the street, and everyone seems to be in a jovial mood. Carol’s front veranda is full of people, some I’ve never seen before, and they all turn to look at me as I walk across her front lawn. I contemplate turning around and running back home.
Awkward.
“Here she is”—Carol laughs—“the guest of honor.”
“Hi.” I kiss her on the cheek and smile at everyone.
“Hi, Juliet.” One of the boys smiles. Everyone waves. “Hello, hello,” they all chime in.
“Hi.” Oh crap, this is awkward as hell. “Where would you like me to put this?” I gesture to the plate of dips and cheeses that I’ve brought.
“Just inside on the table, sweetheart.”
“Thanks.” I open the screen door and walk inside and smile at Carol’s house. It’s like a step back in time. Photos in frames are all over the walls, and the furnishings are all in perfect condition but date back forty years. There are even three flying ducks on the walls, like you see in the movies. I put my plate onto the table and take my time to rearrange it. Seriously, I just want to go home. This is not enjoyable.
“Hi,” a voice from beside me sounds.
I look up to see a girl with light-brown hair. She’s around my age and pretty. “I’m Rebecca. I live a few doors down; I’ve been meaning to come over and introduce myself, but time has gotten away from me.”
“Oh hi, nice to meet you.” I smile as I shake her hand. “You’re in the blue house?”
“Yes, that’s it.” She gestures to a man across the room and waves him over. He’s blond and good looking and probably in his late thirties. “This is my husband, John.”
“Hello.” I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Sorry I haven’t been over yet. Time flies,” he apologizes.
