My heart pounds with my admission, but in a way, I feel better. I don’t know what I’d do if I tried to sit with the noise of the last twenty-four hours by myself, and as far as support systems go, you can’t really do better than your sisters.
They might tease me a little bit about having sex on the first date after not having sex in three flipping years, but they won’t judge me.
They get me on a genetic level.
And Shell…well, she’s been like a mom to me ever since our mom died.
They’ll be there for me. And now, more than ever, I need someone to help me make sense of the laundry list of decisions I’ve made in the last forty-eight hours that feel so out of character.
Obviously, the decisions led me to the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, but still. I need some advice. I need my sisters to help me sort through what I’m thinking and feeling right now.
Garrett
Jake, Holley, and the kids are already waiting when I walk into the diner an hour later. I would have been first to arrive, I’m pretty sure, if I hadn’t realized halfway here that I was still wearing the same button-down shirt Sarah gave me such a hard time about yesterday, and my daughter is way too smart for that kind of fuckup.
I turned around and went home to shower and change, being a little later be damned.
I make my way across to the other side of the dining room and pull out the empty chair that’s obviously intended for me. Sarah and Hayden make faces at Jake and Holley’s little one in her car seat. She makes baby noises back at them, and they melt like popsicles on a hot day.
Apparently, even Sarah’s force field isn’t impenetrable by the sweet coo of a cherub-like baby.
Holley and Jake grin at me like a couple of loons from their spot across the table, Jake’s arm extended across the back of Holley’s chair, and I do my best to ignore them by giving Hayden a half-hugging shake and picking up my menu to study it intensely.
“Hmm. What am I in the mood for today?” I ask aloud, trying to imagine that every eye at the table isn’t focused squarely on me.
But man, they’re heavy as hell. I think I’d be able to feel their weight from the other side of the globe.
I clear my throat.
“So…how is everyone this morning?”
“Oh, we’re good,” Holley says with a cheeky smile. “How are you?”
“Good.”
“Just good?” she pushes.
I glare. “Really good. I’m sorry I’m late, but I’m glad I’m getting the chance to eat breakfast with you guys this morning.”
Lies, lies, lies. I’d rather be just about anywhere other than here with the interrogation I can feel bubbling under the surface. Holley, in particular, seems one glass of lemonade shy from breaking out a dirty mattress and a garden hose to waterboard me.
“Did you have to work this morning, Dad?” Hayden asks innocently. He’s the only shark at the table who hasn’t actually scented my blood in the water yet, and still, he’s asking me questions I don’t really want to have to answer.
“How was Mom’s?” I counter back instead of outright lying to my kid.
Hayden shrugs. “Same as always, pretty much.”
“Sarah?” I prompt, even though the narrow slits of her eyes suggest encouraging her to speak at all might be something I come to regret.
“It was fine, I guess. Bucktooth Blake made us play Yahtzee.”
Hayden shrugs and blows another bubble in his glass of milk. “I thought it was fun.”
“Bucktooth Blake?” Jake mouths to me in question. I wave him off. Now is definitely not the time to get into yet another long-winded conversation about my ex-wife’s boyfriend’s teeth.
Suddenly—almost like taking a bullet to the brain—it occurs to me that Shell, Lauren’s sister, works here. In fact, I knew on Thanksgiving that I’d seen her somewhere before, but apparently, it takes me a long time to put two and two together to make four. It’s not like I come here as often as Jake does, though. I’ve only joined him on a couple of occasions.
As surreptitiously as I can manage, I start looking around, scanning the faces of each and every waitress who moves around the vast diner.
I don’t know if it will make me feel better or worse to find her, but I can’t stop fixating until I know for sure if she’s here or not.
But my mission is thwarted before it can even really get started.
“Garrett, you’re looking a little…distracted. You good, bud?” Jake asks from across the table, an audible smile in his voice. I jerk back to look at him and wipe a dot of misplaced coffee off the side of my cream-colored mug.
“What? No. I’m fine,” I respond and make a mental note to keep my focus on the table unless I want to keep giving my bastard of a best friend openings to give me shit. “Additionally, shut up.”