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Serves me right for serving up a half truth.
“Don’t bother.” Tessa’s disembodied voice startles the coffee out of my hand. It drops, and grainy liquid pools around the legs of the bench. It’s that kind of day.
She appears a heartbeat later, wearing the twin braided pink headband to the one in my hair and holding two coffee cups from the Friendly Bean. She hands one to me. “Extra milk. Extra sweetener. Basically an artificially sweetened milkshake—just like you like it.”
“One, you’re an angel. Two, what are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you. Mom said you seemed off last night at dinner.” She looks me up and down with a sly grin. “I mean, more off than usual.”
“Family game night isn’t the same without my nieces there to distract Mom. She spent the first half of the night showing me pictures from her and Peter’s trip to Paris and the second half of the night reminding me what a great hospital Newport has, in case I was looking for a change. You know, wink, wink, change, leave Kingsette, wink, wink.”
Tessa laughs. “Mom’s subtle like that. Did she show you the guest room too? I think she even painted it the same color as your childhood bedroom.”
“Maybe we should get her a dog to take care of. Then she’ll stop worrying about what I’m doing.” Tessa’s mouth turns down, and that’s my cue to stop reminding her that she’s worried about me too. “More importantly, how’s Emma?”
“She’s fine. She’s on a steroid for croup, but already tearing up the house.” A critical gaze travels the length of my scrubs. She’s only eighteen months older than me, but sometimes, like now, it seems as if those eighteen months have stretched into eighteen years. “Is it even legal to work this much?”
“Of course it is,” I say, and it’s not a lie if it’s an honest guess. “Besides, you’re not allowed to give me a hard time today. You ditched me at Logan’s wedding. I get a pass.”
Tessa frowns. “I didn’t ditch you. My daughter was sick, and I tried to call you. You disappeared on me,” she says, but her expression is already softening, and I know I’ve been forgiven. One of the small perks of Tessa’s obsessive overprotectiveness since Brandon’s death is that she won’t stay angry at me—no matter what I do. Sometimes I miss the Tessa who would just tell me what she thinks, without worrying I’ll shatter like some fragile doll. Right now, though, I don’t. “Did you really say ‘husband store’?”
I suck in a breath through my teeth. “You heard?”
“Do you see where my coffee is from?” She lifts the cup so that the name of the only coffee place in town is eye level. The Friendly Bean is the heart of Kingsette—where everyone goes to eat, drink, and get their fill on what’s happening where and to whom.
It’s gossip central, ruled by Kingsette’s gossip queen: Annette Martina.
“She compared her divorce to Brandon’s death.”
Tessa cringes.
“And she asked me about dating.”
“That’s—”
“That’s not anyone’s business.” A rush of temper flares through me. The same temper I showed Will up on the roof-deck.
My stomach does a backflip at the memory. I’m usually—always—composed with strangers. I don’t get angry. The idea that he saw me lose control like that, even for a second—it would be less mortifying if he’d just walked in on me completely naked.
A bluebird settles on a neighboring bench. It sets its beady eyes on me, as if calling my bluff.
Fine, him walking in on me naked would be worse. In my defense, I haven’t been naked with anyone but Brandon ever.
“We just love you,” Tessa says, pulling me back to the courtyard. “We want you to be happy.” Tessa’s casual use of the wordwemakes me wince. Her life is full ofwe: She and Noah arewe; she and her girls arewe. Even Tessa’s part of the gossip chain makes her awe. I didn’t realize the joy ofweuntil I became justme.
“I am happy.”
“Yeah, tell me again how many hours you worked last month and exactly how big the room is you rent from your late husband’s brother, who—in case you forgot—is now a newlywed. Three was a crowd when they were dating and engaged. Now they’re married. Married couples want privacy, not roommates.” Tessa’s observation traces a familiar pathof frayed nerves down my spine. My room, with its abundance of sunlight and closet space, would make a great nursery.
“Which is it? I’m either working too much or intruding on their privacy.”
“You know, Mom’s not the only one with a spare room. And mine wouldn’t require you to start over at a new hospital.”
Memories strain against the dark box where they’re buried. “You know why I can’t live with you.”
“You can’t avoid that corner forever, Hope.”
“We’re going to have to agree to disagree on that one.” There’s only one way to get from Tessa’s house to the hospital, but at least five ways to get there from Logan and Tanya’s.
