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“Well, he’s definitely mine, but there's no chance he bats for my team.” It goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. And then, noticing my shock, Kyle laughs. “You didn’t know?”
“Didn’t know what?” Carla says, and I give her a pitying look.
“Kyle is trying to say that Fitz is the type of guy he goes for.” Her head bobs back, eyebrows furrowed, confused. And then her mouth makes an “o.” I turn back to him, making a note to confer with her on this later. Her teenage crush just shattered into a million pieces. “That explains so much.” It really did. Kyle fell into an artsy crowd, just like Alex, but he was always too quiet and aloof to really spend time with us.
“My parents probably think I’m this huge failure," Kyle says, "They expected grandbabies by now.”
“Welcome to the disappointment club,” I say, laughing. “Party of 2.”
“You have an excuse,” Kyle replies, knocking his knee against mine with a sad smile.
“Dead husband is more of a badLifetimemovie than an excuse,” I muse, and he seems a little too stunned to speak. On my phone, a notification from our camera chimes to tell me someone is at the front door.
“Don’t mind her.” Carla rolls her eyes at me. “Piper forgets sometimes that we don’t all make dead husband jokes with a straight face.”
The doorbell rings, and Bex immediately starts barking.
“Jesus Fuck,” Carla swears. “I’ll get it.” She jogs out of the room, Bex scurrying after her.
“You would think the sign that says ‘Do not knock or ring doorbell’ would have been a good indicator not to do it,” I say sarcastically to Kyle. I hear the door open, and a few muttered words, before it closes again, and Carla’s feet pad across the living room floor.
She comes into the doorframe slowly, a confused look on her face. In her hands is a dark wicker basket, a bottle of champagne on one side, chocolates on the other. There’s a card in the front.
“Secret admirer for Valentine’s day?” Kyle asks Carla, and she shakes her head, her eyebrows knit together.
“It’s for you.” I lean back in my chair.
What? Who would send me something like this? All of our friends know we’re sober. My birthday isn’t for another few weeks. And as great as my boobs had looked, I don’t think I made that much of an impression on the firefighter to warrant this.
Besides, I fully intend to spend Valentine's Day taking advantage of steep chocolate discounts before binging both versions ofMy Bloody Valentine. It’s a personal tradition.
“Holy shit,” Kyle breathes suddenly, standing and taking the champagne out of the basket as Carla sets it on the corner of my desk. “This is a $300 bottle of champagne.”
“You can have it,” I say absently, reaching for the card. He stares at me. “What? We’re both sober.” He gives me an appreciative smile.
“There goes my plan to get you plastered at the reunion so you can tell me all the salacious details of your tryst with Andy senior year.” I give him a sardonic look, my finger sliding under the seal of the small envelope and slipping out the plain white notecard with the WHG logo on the front.
You deserved better than what the people like us gave you. Please accept my sincerest apologies.
- FNW
I stare at the notecard in my hand, reading it several more times to make sure I wasn’t making shit up in my head. Carla moves to stand behind me, reading over my head, and Kyle leans close to me, his cheek practically resting on my shoulder.
He lets out a low, long whistle.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Carla asks, and I shake my head absently.
“I told him that I let people like Andy make me small, after we ran into him.”
“You saw Andy?” Kyle asks, sitting back to look at me. I nod. “How’d that go?”
“Nothing anxiety meds and silent meditation couldn’t fix,” I reply with a shrug, setting the notecard down on my desk. I had, indeed, come home to sit in front of my bed on a yoga mat, completing an hour-long meditation before heading out for the evening. I look up at Carla. “Though I’m pretty sure I have some resentments against Fitz I need to noodle out.”
“Don’t we all?” Kyle adds with a sideways grin, and he bumps me with his knee again. “Marble Man Fitz is cracking for you.”
“That sentence makes zero sense to me,” I say honestly, quirking my head to the side.
“I heard Ryan call him that one time. I think that was their nickname for him.” He looks between us. “You know, ‘Marble Man’.” He straightens his face stoically, and I laugh at his serious expression.
