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“What about my schedule?” Nora asks.
“I’ll look over yours too,” Whitley says, putting the vehicle in park, opening the door, and sliding out. “First, you have to?—”
“Get to school and learn, learn, learn.”
She unbuckles her own belt, hops out of her seat, leans over the console, and grins. “You and Mommy are my best friends.”
“You and your mommy are my best friends too.”
“So, we’re all best friends.”
“Yeah, we are.”
When Whit comes out of the school, she’s still rocking shades.
When she gets in the vehicle, she says, “This isn’t a good idea.”
“Do me a favor?”
“What?” she says in a way that is so un-Whitley like as she shifts into gear.
“Take off the sunglasses, so I can see your eyes.”
“What?” Then, she immediately asks, “Why?”
“Because.”
“No.” She pulls out of the parking lot.
“You’re not gonna make this easy.”
“This? What is this?” she says with anger in her voice now, but at least she sounds alive.
Us—me, you, and Nora, is what I want to say, but that’s pushing it too far, too soon, and although time is of the essence, it’s important to walk as easy as I can—well, until I have no other choice.
“I’m gonna be here as often as I can from now on. I was gone too damn long.” I shake my head. “I’ve missed you, Whit, missed home. As fucked up as last night was, it might have been the best night I’ve had since the night before I left. And Nora, she’s amazing.”
“She’s gone through a lot. She had a very difficult time adjusting.” I see tears fall down the side of her face. “I can’t lose her; she can’t lose me.”
“I won’t allow that to happen.”
“What makes you think you can do a thing? This all happened when you came back. He changed when you came back.”
That stings.
“I know it’s not you. He’s different?—”
“He proposed to you after, what, a year of you two seeing each other once or twice a month? I mean, I get it. You’re amazing and hot and?—”
“Would you stop with all that? Pope, I need a friend, not?—”
“Okay. That’s what you’ll get.” For now.
“I mean it.”
“Fine, so hear me out. Not trying to rub salt in a wound, Whit, but he hasn’t changed one bit. He could only hide it for so long. I want you to press charges against him, put a fucking restraining order on him?—”
“He knows what I did, John Paul. He knows?—”
