“Sorry, man,” I slurred as Brooke wrapped her arms around Mo and kissed his cheek.
He laughed. “Did she help you feel better?”
I shrugged. “She’s my best friend so she always brings a little light.”
“I’m the best friend ever. And the best wife, aren’t I Mo?”
“Yes, you are, honey.” Mo laughed.
“And the age difference doesn’t matter, does it?” she said.
He arched a brow. “No.”
“You need to order Holly to stop being so mean to Tucker. Just because she’s older doesn’t mean she can’t love him.”
I was just sober enough to be embarrassed by her loose lips.
Mo looked at me for a second and then at Brooke. “There are limits to my powers. I can’t order people to love someone if they don’t.”
“But she does love him. I know it. I mean look at him.”
I grinned, mostly because I loved Brooke for how she loved me.
“He’s smart. And handsome. And sweet. And funny. And…” Her brow furrowed as she tried to think of more adjectives.
“I still can’t order her, I’m sorry baby.” He looked at me. “I should get her home.”
I nodded. “Again, I’m sorry.”
“When she feels like shit tomorrow, I may bring her back and let you hold her head over the toilet.”
I smiled. “And I’ll do it. My head will probably be there anyway.”
He turned to leave, but stopped. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Holly, but I do know that if you love her, it’s worth the effort to try to keep her.”
“I’m not the one who’s the problem.”
He nodded and then carried Brooke out the door. I shut it, and then shut the sliding door and headed to bed. I was still heartbroken, but I wasn’t alone. I had friends in my new town. I had a great class of students. I had more than a lot of people. I certainly had more than Stark. It was time to do what Brooke said. I needed to get my shit together and start living.
34
Holly
Being in my house was hard. Everywhere I looked, from the well-lit porch, to the unsqueaking cupboard door, to the closet now closing perfectly on its hinge, I saw Tucker, and with that, came guilt and profound sadness.
As I closed the cupboard door after getting a few glasses, I tried to forget the pain in Tucker’s eyes and focused on my friends. They had their sleeping bags strewn across my living room floor, snacks on my coffee table, and an entire bar’s worth of booze.
“God, it’d been forever since I’ve done something like this,” Becky said. “Why is that?”
“Probably because you’re a grown ass woman, not a teenage girl,” Karen said, shoving cheese puffs in her mouth.
“What’s your excuse for being here?” Becky asked her.
“Well, sometimes we have let our inner teenager out. And I plan to. I want all the gossip. Starting with Tucker Marshall.”
Becky’s gaze jerked to mine and I could see she was worried about my feelings.
“Like, is he as good looking underneath his clothes as he is with his clothes on?” Karen asked.