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And I already knew I’d never be the same.
Maude brought my meal over, and I ate it mechanically, silently stewing, until Lyle dropped into the seat across from me. We hadn’t been close friends in high school. He was a freshman when I was a senior. But Dad was good friends with Anthony Scott, the owner of Scott Construction, and Lyle was practically an honorary son. He’d been best friends with Truman Scott his entire life, and in the past few years, they’d become a lot more than just friends.
Not that anyone knew that was ever a possibility before it happened, because Lyle Jennings played all his feelings close to the vest.
“You really wanted that beer, huh?” he said dryly. “I figured you’d at least let me have dinner first. What the heck did Paul Minner do?”
“Paul was fine.”
“Then why did I rush over here?”
Lyle didn’t sound ruffled, just a little curious.
I sighed. “If I tell you something, can you take it to the grave? Because if Beck finds out I told you this, he’ll most definitely kill me.”
He tilted his head. “Of course. Sounds serious.”
I lifted my chilled mug and took a gulp of the pale ale I’d ordered. “It is serious. Seriously fucked up.”
“This have anything to do with those rumors about you and Beckett getting hitched in Vegas?”
I groaned as I lowered my glass. “Shit. He’s right to be freaked out, huh? If you went there immediately, then half the town is wondering if we really did it.”
“Maybe. But not everyone is seeing this look on your face. So I have an advantage there.”
“What look is that?”
“Like you’re about to tell me your best friend left you and your dog died.”
“Well, you’re half right.”
He leaned forward, eyes dark with concern. “Is he leaving? You two are so close. I never thought anything could come between you.”
I shook my head. “Notleavingleaving. Just…making it official.” I glanced around then leaned in further, whispering the secret. “Divorce.”
“Oh.” Lyle swiped my beer and took a gulp of it. “Shit. That sucks. I guess you really feel…”
I nodded. “It came as a surprise, but yeah. I guess I do.”
Lyle’s smile was sympathetic. “Well, I can relate to that.”
Despite my inner turmoil, I’d always been curious about Lyle’s relationship with his best friend. “How did that all come about anyway?”
“If you want to hear that story, I’ll need to get a beer of my own.”
“Better make it two. You still owe me for bailing this morning.”
He grinned. “Hey, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”
“You weren’t the one subjected to two hours of birdwatching tips.”
He chuckled. “All right, I guess you’ve earned it. Be right back.”
While he went up to the bar to place the order, I finished off the last of my dinner and checked my phone. No messages. Beckett was probably still playing games with Andi. I tried not to feel jealous, even though it’d been a long while since we’d just chilled and gamed without any tension between us.
I guess that was my fault. If I wanted us to keep our simple friendship, I never should have suggested we screw around when I realized we’d gotten drunk-married. But damn, it was tough to regret it when it’d brought me so much closer to him, even if only for a short time.
“Okay,” Lyle said as he returned and plonked the beer in front of me. “I’ll tell you about the way all my friends sideswiped me with the truth about my feelings for Truman, but first, you have to listen when I tell you a truth.”
