Pierced Hearts (Southern Charmers 1)

“My gag reflexes don’t work that way.”

“Ugh,” I groan, taking a huge swallow of my beer.

“Annie seems to have bounced back quite well. The way you were after her accident, I wasn’t sure what her recovery would be like.”

“Apparently, even the devil wasn’t ready for her yet.”

She bursts into laughter, nudging my shoulder with her own, well aware of the dynamics of Mom’s and my relationship. Tonight is a perfect example. Mom sweet-talked us into joining her and Lynda for cocktails. She claimed it was a celebration of her being officially cleared off all medications. Since it’s Friday night and Stephanie and I would most likely be drinking wine and gossiping at my place, we agreed.

Annie Graham conned me. She lied to her own daughter.

What was supposed to be a small gathering has turned into over a dozen women mingling around Mom’s living room. My nerves are on overload because each glance they throw my way is filled with curiosity. The questions are coming. They’re being polite, but no doubt they’re ready to pounce.

“We’re going to need something stronger than beer if we’re going to survive a night with these ladies.”

She goes to the bar, grabbing the bottle of vodka.

“Make mine a double,” I instruct, ready to armor up for the night.

“I’ll have what she’s having.” The low, sweet voice behind me immediately sends goosebumps over my skin.

I spin, coming face to face with the only other woman on this earth I wanted to call Mom. “Jill,” barely comes out on a whisper, my throat closing. Before I can stop them, tears pool in my eyes and she becomes blurry.

“My Darby.” She moves forward, then pauses, looking for approval.

I make the move, falling into her. She wraps her arms tight, embracing me warmly. “Oh, how I’ve missed my beautiful girl,” she murmurs into my ear. “Still the prettiest girl in the world.”

I choke back a sob, trembling from head to toe. Her hands rub up and down my back soothingly. It takes a few minutes for me to gain my composure, and she fully supports me, holding on until I’m ready to raise my head.

“I missed you, too, Jill. So much.”

She gives me a sad smile, squeezing once. There’s a muffled sniff behind me, and I turn to see my mom at Stephanie’s side, both with wet, glistening eyes. Then I turn to find everyone staring. That’s when I realize that all these ladies were keeping their distance for this reason. They were waiting for Jill to come in and break the ice.

Shame and guilt slam into me, and panic claws up my chest. I know for a fact that everyone thinks I left Charleston because of a huge argument and break-up with Pierce. They think I was running from a broken heart and acting on immaturity. It killed my family not to set the record straight, but my privacy was the priority.

I glance back to Jill and suck in a deep breath, praying my knees don’t give out. Without hearing the words, her eyes communicate her understanding. “You know why, don’t you?”

She nods.

Losing my baby put me on the verge of a breakdown, and I needed to deal. Unfortunately, I lost a lot more.

“I don’t know the intimate details, but I know it’s time to heal. Let it go,” she says so only I can hear.

I blow out a long breath, step out of her hold, and swipe at my cheeks. “It’s good to see you.”

“Did you say you were making drinks, dear?” Jill speaks to Stephanie, who quickly goes back to what she was doing.

“I’ll do my best to protect you from these inquiring minds, but promise me you’ll call or come see me soon. You have grown into a truly striking woman and, from what I hear, a big success. I want to know all about it. Pierce wasn’t the only one who loved you and lost you.”

“I promise.” Emotions threaten to resurface, so I clear my throat a few times and throw my mom a look to do something.

She picks up on the message. “Darby, can you check the appetizers in the oven and grab the trays from the refrigerator?”

“Sure, hope everyone is hungry,” I announce loudly in the bubbliest voice I can muster up.

Stephanie hands Jill a drink and turns to the group, introducing herself. Thankfully, this douses any tension, and the room erupts in conversation. I do as my mom asked, happy for the few minutes to gather myself together.

Stephanie brings me a drink, clinking her glass to mine, and smiles reassuringly. “Drink up.”

“Nothing like liquid encouragement to help rip off the Band-aid.”

“I’ve got your back.”

“Let’s do this.”

She trails me into the living room where we are swept up in the group. Luckily, Lynda starts a conversation about my business, which keeps the focus of questions on DG Creations.