I just wilt, my chin sitting on my chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” says Leif. “Hey. It’s okay. Really.”
The other guy disappears inside without another word.
Meanwhile, I’m about to burst into tears like an idiot. There have probably been more embarrassing situations in the history of space and time, I just can’t think of any right now. Thing is, I was having a nice evening. I was doing all right. I was going to eat Mexican corn, dammit. Then Ryan had to come at me with his hypocritical possessive bullshit.
I could honestly scream, but I don’t. “He’s why you stopped coming to read to me.”
Leif just nods. And it’s the pity that kills me. The sorrow in his gaze and lines set in his face. I can’t do it. I can’t face him like this.
“I’m so sorry. About everything. Him turning up here and . . . I’m sorry.” And I get out of there as fast I can.
CHAPTER TWO
The first sign that something is wrong is the silence. It’s so complete the house seems to echo with it. No music. No chatter. Nothing. Mom hates the quiet and her car is here, so I know she’s home. It’s been over a week since I visited Leif and my outlook has not particularly improved. Nor will it be improving in the next short while. Because there’s a bump like someone knocking into a piece of furniture and it’s followed by a giggle.
Oh, God. She wouldn’t have. Surely.
Then my worst nightmare comes true. Assorted friends and acquaintances leap out from behind various objects shouting, “Happy birthday!”
Fuck no. Kill me now.
I paste a smile on my face as Mom steps out from the kitchen. Her grin is huge and hopeful. People hug me while someone presses a glass of champagne into my hand. There’s Zola, Lucy, Cho, and James from the inn where I used to work. My old neighbors, Julia and Will. Erin and her girlfriend Angie from the tennis club where I used to play. And last but not least, Briar from college. Thank goodness she’s here.
No wonder Mom said she wouldn’t be available to pick me up. And I look a mess, having only braided my wet hair after showering post hydrotherapy. Same goes for my pair of denim cutoffs and an old blouse that are more yard work than surprise birthday party. Glam I am not.
Forget pink champagne, I require hard liquor.
The team from the inn hangs back after offering felicitations. There’s a nervous sort of energy to them. Fair enough, considering their boss is my former best friend Celine, the husband fucker. No wonder I no longer have a job. As if I could ever go back there. Us both sleeping with the same man makes for quite the conflict of interest in the workplace. Not that I’ve slept with Ryan, or anyone, in the last ten or so months. How awkward.
My old neighbors are likewise an awkward situation waiting to happen. Any and all previous socializing was done as part of a couple. Picnics, potlucks, things like that. We were like mirror images of each other. Two upwardly mobile professional around-thirty-year-old couples. And I am now distinctly uncoupled, out of work, and have mobility issues. No wonder I didn’t want a party. Not that anyone asked me. Hear me whine.
One close friend of mine in days of yore was Ryan’s sister Natasha. But she’s been suspiciously quiet since I woke up. It’s amazing how people prefer to disappear over facing their own foibles. Or their family’s foibles. I’m certainly not immune to engaging in this behavior, but it doesn’t make it any easier to be on the receiving end.
Although Mom has been cautious with the guest list, everyone here knows that my husband banged one of my best friends. Awesome. Whelp, no point in avoiding my guests. I square my shoulders and face the crowd with a smile.
The question is, who are you when your job, your relationship, and one of your best friends are gone? I’m adrift in a sea of what the fuck. I’d like to think that Celine will come crawling on her hands and knees, begging me to return to working at the inn. But the fact is, I’m not irreplaceable. And they’ve had over half a year to replace me. At this point, I doubt I’ll even be getting a well-deserved glowing reference.
“So good to see you!” Erin smacks a kiss on my cheek.
“You too,” I say.
Angie grabs my hand and presses it to her bulging belly. “Say hello.”
“Hello, little one,” I say dutifully. It’s impossible not to be happy for Erin and Angie. There’s such an air of joy to them, a feeling of growth. They also don’t give a crap that Ryan isn’t standing at my side. What a relief. I don’t know them very well, but what I do know I like.