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I do as she suggests and nervously pull out the chair. I've just gotten comfortable when Laurel leads everyone into the room. Troy immediately zeroes in on me and smiles. Dressed in a gray dress shirt, dark slacks, and blazer, he walks toward the table, holding a glass of white wine. Laurel hurries to the chair next to me and sits.
"Laurel, why don't you—"
"She's fine," Herb interrupts, stopping Mom from suggesting Laurel move. He sets another pecan pie martini by my plate and grasps my shoulder for reassurance. Moving away, he takes his seat at the head of the table.
"Britt, it's good to see you. You look lovely as always." Troy seems to study me as he sits in the chair next to Mom.
I smile politely and utter a barely audible "thanks," causing Troy to frown.
Laurel starts passing dishes, engaging in small talk about the food, and Herb joins in. Herb's a master communicator, and it's not long before he's manipulating the conversation, directing a barrage of questions at Troy to keep him talking, which keeps me from having to converse with him.
Dinner finishes, and with Herb's help, I only had to contribute a few tidbits about my European trip. Now, I have to figure out how to keep Troy away from me once we leave the table. Brightening, I turn toward Laurel.
"Laurel, can you help me pick up the dishes and clean the kitchen?" I push my chair back and stand.
"Troy can help you," Mom chimes in, motioning him to get up from the table.
"Oh, no. Troy's a guest, and I refuse to let him help," Herb says, his voice firm. "Laurel and Britt can put the food away and clean up. Besides, Britt told me Troy's an excellent chess player, and I'd enjoy challenging him to a game." Herb turns to Troy. "How about it? You can give me some tips on how to play."
Herb's last comment has me dying inside with laughter. Besides feeding into Troy's arrogance, Herb is a chess expert, and there's nothing Troy can tell him that he doesn't already know.
With a giggle threatening to burst forth, I hurriedly stack my dishes and rush into the kitchen. Laurel comes in behind me with her hands full of plates, silverware, and bowls. She cackles with laughter as soon as we make eye contact. No longer able to hold my amusement, I join in.
I'm putting the last leftovers in the refrigerator when I hear someone walk into the kitchen. Turning, I spot Troy standing next to one of the counters.
"Hey, Britt. I'm glad I got to see you this evening. I sent you flowers. Did you get them?"
"I did." I lean against the refrigerator, refusing to step toward him.
"I also tried to get a hold of you. I called your office."
"I heard."
"Look, Britt, can we please talk privately for a minute? I have a few things I need to say." Troy looks at Laurel with a silent plea to leave the room.
"I thought you and Herb were playing chess," I say, trying to hold him off.
"We are. Herb's taking a break to get another bottle of wine."
"There you are." Herb steps into the kitchen, looking for Troy.
Troy looks instantly irritated. "If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to talk to Britt about a personal matter."
"Nonsense, there's plenty of time for that. I've got the wine, so let's get back to it. Maybe you'll let me win this time." Herb puts his hand on Troy's shoulder and gently but firmly pushes him from the kitchen.
"Damn, Herb's good," Laurel says, her face full of appreciation. She pushes the start button on the dishwasher and then hooks her arm in mine. "Let's watch television in the den. There's a crime series on Netflix that I want to watch."
Laurel pulls me into the den, and we get comfortable on the couch. She turns on her show and is soon drooling over the actors.
"Britt, you have to look at this guy. He's so freaking hot and one of the reasons I watch the show."
I place my cell phone on the coffee table and watch the television. The realization of who the actor is hits me like a wheelbarrow full of bricks. "No fucking way," I breathe, gawking at the screen.
Laurel looks at me like I've lost it. "Why are you freaking out?"
"That's Graham Stewart."
"Yeah. And?"
