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I had never thanked Whitney for interceding.
“Marion and Tom want to see you, Meggie. Lena too,” Mom insisted.
There was no mention of Adam.
Maybe my mother wasn’t as blind to the situation as I thought she was.
So I had gone to the Ducates. And it had been fine in the beginning. It felt good to talk to Lena again. We had spoken sporadically over the years, but it had been a long time since we spent any time together.
I knew her loyalty would be with Adam, as it should be, but we had been close too. She had been like a younger sister to both Whitney and me. She tagged along on our girlie shopping trips, and we had helped her get ready for school dances.
But that had gradually stopped after Adam and I were no longer friends. I had lost more than Adam, that was for sure.
Talking with Tom, Marion, and Lena felt like old times. There was an easiness between us that could only come from a rich and deep history.
Then he showed up, and it all went to shit.
I wanted to hate him. Up until recently, I thought that was what I felt. I would have told anyone who asked, without question, that my feelings for Adam fell into the wish-he-would-fall-off-the-face-of-the-Earth variety.
But seeing him again, I realized that wasn’t true. Because there was a part of me—a small part, but a part all the same—that longed to forget my pride and the great gulf of time and hurt feelings between us. I missed him. It was the sort of yearning that you felt in your bones.
It sucked big time.
It was easy to ignore it when we weren’t face to face. I had been doing it successfully—or so I thought—for the past ten years.
Then he turned his blue eyes to mine, and I felt the chasm open beneath my feet, and I was falling all over again.
The fucking bastard.
And he hadn’t developed a beer belly and receding hairline to make my life easier. Jerk.
And when he spoke…and laughed…and smiled…my stomach squeezed and twisted until I thought I was going to puke.
But then he had opened his stupid mouth, and I forgot how gorgeous he was and only wanted to punch him in the mouth.
After he arrived, the rest of the dinner consisted of me pretending he wasn’t there and him making obnoxious jokes trying to get my attention. What were we? Twelve?
Attempting to be mature was tiring. Pretending like Adam wasn’t there was downright difficult. By the time we left, all I wanted to do was drink a bottle of wine and binge Netflix until I could scrub his adorably loathsome smile from my brain.
“That was lovely, wasn’t it?” Mom said as we drove the five blocks home.
“Just lovely,” I replied flatly. I was internally wondering if I had wine at the house or if Mom would mind if I stopped at the store on the way home.
Alcohol would be my new best friend.
Mom was in a particularly pushy mood. “You seemed to enjoy yourself. Didn’t you? You and Lena were chatting like old times. And it was so nice to see you and Adam together again.”
I knew the best course of action would be not to say anything. To agree and carry on like there was nothing wrong. But I was tired. I was stretched and strained, and I didn’t have the energy to lie. Plus, why should I protect Adam’s precious image? Screw him.
“Adam Ducate is a complete dick,” I retorted sharply.
Mom’s eyes widened. “What? Why? I know you guys had your problems, but that was years ago—”
“Look, Mom, I never told you what happened between Adam and me. We had more than problems.” I gripped the steering wheel hard enough that I thought it would break off in my hand. “Adam broke my heart, Mom. And then he acted like a total ass about it. It wasn’t as much about him hooking up with Chelsea—who is the worst I might add—it was about him lying to me. And then pushing me out of his life like I didn’t matter.” I turned down our street, putting my foot down on the accelerator in my haste to get out of the car and away from this conversation.
“No,” my mom gasped. “I can’t believe that. You and Adam were so close. He would have done anything in the world for you.”
“Except act like a fucking decent human being,” I muttered.
Mom tutted sternly. “Meghan Ann Galloway, watch your mouth.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Now, a lot of time has passed, maybe you need to look at it with fresh, more mature eyes,” Mom suggested primly.
“I don’t need fresh eyes, Mom. I’m not sure how else you can look at the fact that Adam started dating Chelsea. When I got upset because she used to treat torturing me like an Olympic sport and I thought it was more than a little messed up my supposed best friend would date someone who treated me that way, he told me I was the one who ruined our friendship. That I had made things weird and awkward.” I pulled up in front of the house and killed the engine. I took the keys out of the ignition but didn’t get out. Mom needed to hear the rest.
