At the same time, we both glanced at Jenner’s card, sitting on the tablecloth between us. As I was about to pick it up, he did instead, slipping it into his wallet.
“I need some time, Joanna.” He drank the rest of his scotch. “I need to process this …”
“That’s fine,” I told him. “I get it.”
More silence began to beat away until the waitress returned with my father’s receipt and the boxes to pack up the appetizers. Once she emptied the plates, she put the containers into a bag and set it next to me on the table.
My father stood, and as I gripped the handle of the bag and my clutch, I followed him out of the restaurant.
Jenner and I had driven separately, my car staring back at me in the parking lot.
Maybe, deep down, both of us had known this was going to happen.
My father’s driver pulled up, and Dad stalled in front of the backseat, his fingers gripping the door handle. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
I walked closer and leaned in, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, you will, Dad. Good night.”
The second I got into my car, I pulled out my phone, hoping to see a text from Jenner.
There was a screen full of notifications, not a single one from him.
I started the engine, and as I drove out of the lot, I called him.
He didn’t answer.
I tried again, my call going to voice mail.
I wanted to go to his house, but there was a chance he wasn’t home.
He could have gone to Dominick’s to drink his face off.
Or to Ford’s house.
He could even be sitting at a bar, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
But I knew that if he wasn’t answering my calls, he needed space, so instead of driving to his house, I went to my apartment, and I was so relieved to see Monica on the couch when I walked in.
“I didn’t expect you tonight—” Her voice cut off when our eyes connected. “Oh fuck, babe. What happened?”
I left my heels by the door, not trusting myself to walk in them, and I hurried over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of wine that I brought to the couch. I tugged out the cork that was halfway in and guzzled straight from the bottle.
“It’s like that?” she asked.
She knew what tonight was.
We’d been texting about it for days. She’d even given me a pep talk before I left for dinner.
“Mmhmm.” I wiped my mouth. “It went horribly bad.” I handed her the wine, watching her drink straight from the bottle. “Like Jenner left the restaurant, and Dad is beyond pissed. He will barely even talk to me. Jenner isn’t answering my calls.”
Her eyes went wide. “Okay.” She gave me back the bottle, encouraging me to lift it to my mouth, and while I chugged more down, she said, “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Somehow. Yes, somehow, we’ll make this better.”
“We will?” I tested her. “How?”
My best friend usually had the answer to everything.
But this time, I just didn’t know.
As I was waiting for her to respond, still holding my phone in my hand, it vibrated.
A new text appeared on the screen.
Jenner: I’m at Dominick’s, getting shit-faced, but I need to know that you’re all right. And I need you to know I love you.
“See,” Monica said as I showed her his message. “Like I said, everything is going to be just fine.”
“Fine?” I mocked. “Fine is the worst word in the world. No one wants to be fine.”
“Fiiine, then it’s going to be great.” She pointed at my phone. “Reply to your man and then come here.” She held out her arms. “I think we could both really use a hug.”