Playing the Player(70)

Mom’s responding smile looked forced. “That’s what I meant.” She tore at the tissue still in her hand. “Of course you got the job by yourself.” She stood up suddenly. “I’ll get the stationery. Be right back.”

While I waited for her to return, I checked my phone. Of course she hadn’t texted me. But Desi had: Still pouting. But keep trying.

I wasn’t giving up. I was about to write an actual love letter. If that wasn’t trying, I didn’t know what was.

Mom returned with a box and dropped it on the table. I eyed it warily. “It has flowers, Mom. And baby ducks. I can’t use that.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Do we need to watch You’ve Got Mail together?”

I jerked upright. “No, we do not.” I pulled out a piece of paper and scrawled quickly, then passed the letter to Mom.

Sorry I was a dick. You’re a cool chick.

Mom threw the paper on the table, but I could tell she was biting back laughter. I stood up, grabbing the box of girlie paper.

“You didn’t really think I’d write it in front of you, did you? This isn’t fourth grade homework at the kitchen table, Mom.”

She shook her head, smiling in exasperation, and I backed out of the room, giving her a lazy salute.





Chapter Forty-Two


Trina


July 17, Wednesday

Mom knocked softly on my door, stepped inside, and held out a lavender envelope.

“For you.”

I yanked my earbuds out of my ears and stared at the envelope. My heart flipped over when I recognized Slade’s messy scrawl.

Mom waited, smiling down at me. I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Privacy, please.”

She sighed, but left the room. “At least let me know if you forgive him,” she called through the door.

Why couldn’t she be at work today? “Not listening!” I yelled. “Putting in earbuds.”

I tore open the envelope then hesitated. What if this was an official “we’re done” letter? But nobody did that anymore. We dumped by text, not old lady stationery. I caught a whiff of something. I pressed the envelope to my nose and almost giggled out loud. Had he actually put his cologne on this?

I took a deep breath and eased the letter out of the envelope. My eyes scanned the page, reading greedily, and then I started over again, reading slowly. By the third pass, tears flowed down my cheeks and my heart banged against my rib cage. I reached for my phone, ready to call him to see when we could meet.

Then I hesitated. He’d made such a grand, romantic gesture; I should do the same. I ran to my desk and pulled out an old box of stationery I’d received as a gift. It was almost as lame as Slade’s stationery. There were so many things I wanted to say. I sighed dreamily then started writing.



My letter was much longer than Slade’s. I proofread it one last time and tucked it in an envelope. Stamps. I dug around in my desk drawer, my hands landing on the uncashed paychecks Dr. Edmunds had sent before I’d ended our deal. Guilt flooded me.

Maybe I should remind her how completely done that deal was. I yanked out the checks and tore them in pieces, then shoved them in another envelope. I dug around for stamps again, dredging up a faded booklet.

Writing quickly, I addressed one envelope to Slade and one to his mom. I stuck stamps on each envelope then jumped up, grabbing my purse. If I got to the post office before five, the letters would probably arrive tomorrow. I didn’t think I could wait longer than that before seeing Slade.

As I drove, I imagined him opening my letter. Imagined him calling me as soon he read it. Imagined how amazing it would feel to be in his arms again.

The stamps said “Forever.” I didn’t know about forever, but I hoped we could at least move on to “for now.”





Chapter Forty-Three


Slade


Thursday, July 18

When I got home from the pool, I grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry. I sat on a barstool at the kitchen counter, my body jangling with nervous energy.

Trina should’ve called or texted by now. It had been two days. I knew people called it snail mail, but come on. I shoved some chips in my mouth then chased them with soda, debating about calling Desi. She’d know if Trina got the letter, right? That was the kind of things girls would flip over and talk about for hours.

I pushed away from the counter and wandered into the hallway.

“Slade, you’re home. I didn’t hear you come in.” Dad walked out of his study and held out a pink envelope. He smirked. “Special delivery.”

I yanked it out of his hand and headed for the stairs, my stomach clenching when I recognized Trina’s perfect penmanship.

“You’re welcome,” Dad called up the stairs. “Thanks for being such an awesome Dad and not opening my letter.”

I ignored him, slamming my door behind me. She’d written me back. Of course she had. I grinned as I tore open the envelope, but instead of pulling out a letter, I pulled out a scrap of paper. I stared at it, frowning. It was part of a check with my mom’s signature on the bottom. What the hell?

I dumped the rest of the envelope’s contents onto my desk. The torn bits of paper scattered like puzzle pieces. I reassembled them quickly. When I saw who the payee was on the checks, I stopped breathing. My mom had paid Trina? For what? Gnawing panic filled my chest. I raced back downstairs.