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Holli’s ringtone cut me short, and I abandoned my half-hearted teasing to answer it. “Hello?”
“Sophie… Deja’s been…” Holli was, understandably, upset.
This was the moment I could pretend I didn’t know what had happened, and start living a lie.
Instead, I said, “She was fired. I know. And I need to talk to you about that. Can we meet somewhere other than a bridal shop?”
“Um, y-yeah?” Her voice quavered. “What’s going on?”
“I would rather talk to you in person.” She had to know by now that something was up. “Let’s meet at Dinicio’s, okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” But it was clear that she wasn’t fine. I couldn’t stand the thought of her sitting around, chewing her nails, ruining her manicure over the su
spense created by a situation I caused. I hoped traffic would be light.
* * * *
The car pulled up outside Dinicio’s, the small Greek restaurant a few blocks away from the apartment Holli and I used to share. I’d thought it was a good idea to meet her here, but when I caught sight of her sitting behind the stenciled plate glass, my heart plummeted to my stomach.
“Just go on ahead home,” I told Neil, but inwardly, I was begging him to stay. Stay, and give me the dignity of not having to ask.
“The hell I will.” The words were forceful, but not the tone behind them. “I’ll be right here, Sophie.”
I hated him for firing Deja. I hated myself for telling him about the whole situation. I hated Deja for being out with Gabriella, though knowing that Neil accepted her explanation for the why of it lessened the sting.
The short walk from the curb to the restaurant was bitter cold in a way that seemed much harsher than even the worst Michigan winter I could remember. The bells over the door jingled as I came in, and Holli looked up, her hands cupped around a steaming mug. A few tendrils of hair escaped her messy, growing-out up-do to frame her worried face. She slid from the booth—our booth—and met me halfway with a huge hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Deja is freaking out. Please, please tell me you either have good news or that you read your asshole boyfriend the riot act.”
I was glad that we were hugging, so I had time to compose my face. I should have expected she would be angry with Neil, but I was so focused on how angry she would be with me that I hadn’t entertained the notion. Now I felt like an even bigger jerk, because it had never crossed my mind that I could have been more demonstratively angry with Neil.
Then again, Neil wasn’t the one who’d broken company policy.
“Neither,” I said apologetically, stepping back. I went to the booth and slid into my seat, knowing without a doubt that this would be the last time we would do this together.
Holli didn’t question my admission. “I can’t believe he fired her. And that bitch! I can’t believe she weighed in on this. She has never even met Deja.”
That was true; Valerie hadn’t crossed paths with Deja at Neil’s pre-transplant party. She’d even expressed disappointment that she hadn’t gotten a chance to meet her.
“And Neil. Sophie, I am sorry, but who the fuck fires his girlfriend’s best friend’s girlfriend?” Holli fumed. “All over some silly allegation.”
I shifted in my seat and drew a little swirl on the tabletop with my finger. “You know…Deja was having lunch with Gabriella Winters. I’m not saying this isn’t shit—”
“How did you know what she got fired for?” Holli squinted at me.
There was no sense in tiptoeing around it. “I know because…I’m the person who saw her.”
“What?” She smiled, but it was an expression of total nervous incomprehension, not joy. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw Deja at the restaurant. I was having lunch with Emma, and Deja and Gabriella Winters walked out and… I couldn’t not tell him.”
“How could you do this to us?” Holli’s perfect forehead creased in a bewildered frown. “Sophie, we’re about to get married! We have this wedding to pay for. We have a mortgage. You can’t still seriously be playing this stupid fashion magazine intrigue bullshit?”
“It’s not bullshit! I’ve been working really hard to change some bad patterns, and I’m not going to go back to—”
“Stop it with your psychology crap. You’re crazier now than you were when you started going to that stupid doctor.”
It’s nice to finally know what you think of me. I set my jaw against the sick feeling crawling up my throat. “I had to tell him. Look, I know it’s a shitty time—”
