Not Your Fault

She nods with this smug look on her face. “It was Mom’s idea. I’m helping her plan it. You’re gonna love it.”

“Ah,” I say, now that everything makes sense. If my mom wants to throw a party, it’s for her own benefit, not mine. Ever since she and Dad dropped fifty thousand dollars on their back yard oasis, she looks for any excuse she can find to invite her colleagues over to eat their heart out at her amazing life. I’m pretty sure her desire to be better than everyone else is the only reason she’s getting her PhD.

I count the days in my head. Only a few more days until my twenty-eighth birthday. I don’t ever think of the date as my birthday. I think of it as the date of Tyler’s death, in which case, it’ll be ten years since I lost my brother.

I check the time and pull my cell phone off the charger, shoving it into my purse. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to celebrate my birthday, since that day isn’t exactly a happy day.”

Cat shakes her head. “You’re the only one who thinks that. Everyone else knows that Tyler would have wanted you to celebrate being alive, even though he isn’t here to celebrate with you.”

I grab the nail polish bottle and put it back where it belongs in an attempt to take my mind off the uneasy pains now shooting through my heart at the memory of my brother. I know Cat has good intentions, but sometimes she should just shut the hell up.

When the doorbell rings, my legs suddenly forget how to be legs. The melodic chime echoes through my tiny house, paralyzing me where I stand, which is by the television only a few feet away from the door. My heart thunders under my ribcage and I can’t seem to move. All it would take is a few steps forward, one arm reach to the doorknob and another twist to get it open. But because of some sudden medical emergency, I can’t bring myself to do it.

Because Kris Payne is on the other side of that door.

Memories flood into the forefront of my mind, and suddenly I’m sixteen again, back in the foyer of my parent’s house. Kris stands on the other side of the door but he doesn’t stand there long because the moment I hear the doorbell, I’m dashing through the hallway and around the corner, practically slamming into the heavy wooden front door in my haste to see him. I throw open the door and leap into his arms, wrapping mine tightly around his neck where they belonged.

This happened every single day when Kris and I dated; the only differences being the clothes we wore or the weather outside. I used to love welcoming him into my house.

I’m still me, and he’s still him, but everything is different now.

“Oh, come on,” Cat says, walking straight up to the door. She grabs the handle and swings around to face me before opening the door. “You need to grow some balls, Delaney, because I won’t always be here to lend you mine.”

Kris looks up when the door opens and I don’t miss how his hand hovers over his pocket, slipping his phone in there right before he smiles and says hello to my sister. I guess he’s already anticipating how boring this dinner will be and is scheduling an alarm to go off in an hour in case he needs an excuse to bail out early. Not that bailing is something he has difficulty doing, or anything.

Ugh. I can’t believe I just thought that.

“Hey,” I say in reply to his hello. My sister and I stand in the foyer while he stands on the welcome mat for about ten seconds, which is ten seconds of ridiculously awkward silence.

Finally, Kris nods to Cat. “Hey, Catherin. How have you been?”

“Every day that I haven’t succumbed to quitting my job and being a couch potato is a success for me,” she says. Kris nods as if he understands. He probably doesn’t.

“Would you like to come with us?” Kris asks, and it even sounds genuine, despite the fact that I’m chanting no no no in my mind. “We’re having dinner on the island tonight.”

Sterling Island is a small city just off the coast of Texas, known for his historical architecture and ridiculously good restaurants. Cat loves eating on the island. I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.

“Thanks, but I’m busy tonight. I have a date with my ex-boyfriend,” Cat says, lying through her teeth. She flashes us a smile as she runs a hand through her auburn hair. “Turns out he got really hot after we broke up, so, I’m

gonna give him another chance.”

She winks at me as she turns to leave, chuckling to herself when she sees my deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. If there’s one thing Cat loves doing, it’s fucking with me.

The scent of soft leather seats and chemical-infused new car smell engulfs me as I climb into Kris’s brand new truck. He doesn’t hold open the door for me the way he used to in high school, but I definitely didn’t expect him to do that tonight. I’m not even sure he and I are at the point of chivalry yet. Slightly past the line of boss and employee, yes, but not quite to romance or good old fashioned southern hospitality.

“I haven’t been to the island in a while,” I say as we drive over the mile-long bridge that joins Sterling with the mainland.

“Only the best food ever,” he replies. I watch him from my place in the passenger seat, which in this massive monstrosity of a truck, it feels like we’re yards apart from each other. He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other one resting on the center console. His chiseled jaw is relaxed and he smiles when he catches me staring at him.

“What kind of music do you like?” he asks, pressing the radio button. “This thing has a million satellite stations.”

“Same kind of music I’ve always listened to,” I blurt out without realizing the weight of what I’d just said. This is the first time I’ve mentioned any sort of reference to the very painful fact that we used to know each other. I watch with anticipation as he clicks through the multiple stations on the radio. There’s no reason he should remember what kind of music I like, but I wonder if he does.

He stops flipping stations when he lands on a Sublime song. He glances over at me and I smile when our eyes meet. He remembers.

Dinner is interesting. As far as dining with your boss goes, everything goes smoothly. We chat about the gym and his plans for building the business into something greater than Judy and Dwayne could have done in their old age. He mentions Susan and her on the job drinking, and I play the part of loyal friend and assure him that she drinks very rarely, and never to the point of being very drunk. I mean, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and all that.

The food is delicious and it would be even better if I could quell the butterflies in my stomach long enough to finish my meal. As it is, I spent all my time drying my sweaty palms on the cloth napkin in my lap and concentrating on keeping up with the pointless conversation. We talk about everything two professional adult acquaintances could possibly discuss. We even slip into the friend category, talking about his dog’s tendency to eat inedible things around the house and my sister’s plans for life since she never graduated college.