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“How do you know I’m in sales?”
“I may have stalked your social media, but that’s not why we’re here. Let’s talk about the party.”
I leaned in my chair. “No, let’s talk about you stalking me. I find that so much more interesting.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t stalking you per se. I was curious about what you’ve been up to.” Her eyebrow quirked. “And don’t tell me you haven’t tried checking up on me.”
“I haven’t.” Hurt flashed in her greenish blue eyes, and guilt settled in my stomach. “You left,” I said. “Without a word. I assumed you didn’t want me in your life anymore, so I stayed away.”
Her chest rose and fell with a large inhale. She picked up the wineglass and took a healthy swig. “It was complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?”
“My mom had just…” Her words faltered, but it didn’t matter. I knew what she was going to say. Her mom died. Phoebe’s happiness had been left six feet under, closed tightly in the coffin with her mother. Nothing I could say or do could bring it back. I didn’t try. I thought I had more time. Thought if I gave her time to mourn, she’d dig herself out. I never expected her to take off.
“I know,” I said.
“And my dad.”
“It was complicated.”
She took another large sip. “Exactly.”
“The past is the past. We can’t do anything about it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to feel the same way about the present and the future.”
“What do you mean?”
She let out a breath, her hair blowing about her face. “Marion.” Her stepmom’s name was more than enough for me to fill in the blanks. “Can you believe she brought up the cost of the plate? As if my plus one isn’t worth her dime?”
I went to say something, but Phoebe beat me to it.
“It’s not like I invited a football team; it’s one person. I’m sure everyone else got a plus one, but no, not me. Not Phoebe, the perpetually single daughter of her husband she’s stuck inviting to everything. Because you know damn well she wouldn’t invite me if she thought she could get away with it. Then again. No…” She jabbed her finger into the table. “Then she wouldn’t have anybody to rail on. You know what? I shouldn’t offer to pay for the plate. She should be paying me, since I so graciously offer her free entertainment.”
Phoebe gulped down the last of her wine and held her glass with a smile. I glanced over my shoulder and spotted Silvia, who gave a nod and headed to the bar.
I probably should have told her to slow down, but the words poured out of her as if the infection had been suffering beneath the skin for so long, and the surface was finally lanced, letting the impurities flow freely.
“I tried not to hate the woman. But how could I not? She was my father’s mistress! She got pregnant while my dad was still married to my mother. And trust me, I know it’s not all on her. My father was and is an asshole for it. But then my mom dies, and sheshows upat the funeral! With her kid on her hip, wearing a massive engagement ring. The nerve! Then she and my father get married two weeks after I put my mother into the ground.Twoweeks!”
I did the math in my head. “Is that why you left?”
Her eyes met mine, lips parted, but before she could say anything, Silvia placed a glass of wine in front of her. “Here you are, dear.”
Phoebe snapped her gaze away and thanked Silvia. “I changed my mind. I’ll take the bottle,” she said.
“Are you sure—” Phoebe held her hand up, effectively cutting me off.
“It’s full of health benefits. Like eating a salad.”
“I never said that.”
“Technically, wine comes from grapes, and grapes are a fruit,” Silvia supplied.
“Are they? Or are they a berry?” Phoebe tapped her chin.
“Technically, they’re a fruit, but botanically they’re a berry,” I supplied.
