The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(33)

Sophie eyed Zo?, indicating she had suspected I might react like this.

"I have a very busy schedule...as you all should know," I defended. "And my work is very important to me. Dating is, by far, the last thing on my mind."

"Jen, darling, we're only looking out for you because we care." John jumped in with his soothing, gay-man-in-a-straight -woman's-world act. "And it's our job to make sure you don't end up an old maid."

Zo? stifled a giggle as I sighed in frustration and rolled my eyes.

"Seriously," Sophie urged me. "You haven't been on one date since... since...well I don't even remember."

I lowered my eyes and stared at the soggy cocktail napkin under my glass.

"Did you ever think that your lack of dates might have to do with something else?" Sophie asked.

I cupped my chin in my hand. "Like...?"

She looked to Zo?, who gave her an encouraging nod. Sophie took a deep breath. "Like your parents."

A lump formed almost instantly in the back of my throat. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes. I quickly looked away, blinking them back. She had hit the sore spot. The core. And she didn't even know it. She didn't even know what it really meant. If I was going to win this argument I would have to steer them clear of all things relating to the truth. To that fateful day when my normal, preteen life morphed into something else. Something I had never even dreamed of.

I heard the faint sound of my cell phone ringing, and I immediately dug into my bag to silence it, annoyed by the rude interruption. I could feel my hands start to shake. I reached up and held tightly to my empty glass to steady them. "This has nothing to do with my parents," I said softly but sternly.

We all knew it was a lie. A transparent, unmistakable diversion from the real story. But only I knew how far the lie really went.

"Just think about it, Jen," Sophie began. "Three years ago your mom sits you down and tells you your dad cheated on her and they're getting a divorce. And suddenly you have no time for dating. It's a textbook case of—"

"I'm telling you, this has nothing to do with them," I interrupted her, my voice hardening.

Sophie reached out and grabbed my hand again. "Jen, not all men cheat."

"This is coming from you?" I exploded, pulling my hand away.

"Well, at least I dated!" she shot back, the amplified level of her voice taking me by surprise. "At least I got out there and opened myself up to the possibility of being vulnerable to someone."

"Yeah, you're vulnerable, all right. So vulnerable that you have to hire someone to prove to yourself just how freaking vulnerable you really are!"

Zo? and John had officially been kicked out of the conversation. Out of the corner of my eye I could see their heads bob back and forth like spectators at a tennis match. They were no longer oblivious; they had definitely missed something important. But now it was pretty obvious that neither one of them really wanted to know. You'd have to be an idiot to want to get in the middle of whatever this was.

"What about you?" Sophie yelled back. "You haven't even kissed a guy in...I don't know how long!"

I groaned and bit my tongue. To my displeasure I was still able to taste the traces of Andrew Thompson from only a few nights ago.

Sophie lowered her tone. "Jen, what are you so afraid of?"

"Apparently, not as much as you're afraid of," I mumbled, slightly under my breath.

"Well, whatever it is, I think it's keeping you from being truly happy."

I could feel the anger and resentment and frustration continue to well up inside of me, and the worst part was, I knew I couldn't even utter one tenth of what I really wanted to say. "How do you know what makes me happy?" I growled, thankful for the humming background noise of the bar to soften my seemingly unwarranted outburst. "Just because I don't live for a rock on my finger like you did doesn't mean I'm not happy!"

Sophie bowed her head and stared down at the table. I worried that maybe I had gone too far... said too much. And just as I was about to open my mouth to mumble some sort of apology, she whispered, "Jen, you don't even speak to your own father..."

"This conversation is over!" I stood up and squeezed my way past John until I was clear of the booth. My three friends stared up at me in bewilderment, as if they hardly recognized me. But I didn't care. I had a much bigger problem on my mind: I hardly recognized myself.

"For the last time. This has nothing to do with my parents."

And with that I stormed out of the bar.

I sat in the parking lot in my Range Rover, wondering if I should go back in and apologize for my outburst. Apologize for what I said to Sophie. After all, they were only looking out for me, right? They couldn't possibly know what was really going on, because I didn't tell them.

I watched the front door through my spotted windshield, waiting for a familiar face to exit, race across the street to the empty parking lot, and hop into my car, demanding an explanation. Demanding the truth.

And I had a sneaking suspicion that at that moment I would give it to them.

But no one came.

A group of drunk girls stumbled out, followed by the newest member of the Ziyi Zhang fan club, and then nothing. No one.

I guess there was an option three, after all: Scream at Sophie in front of everyone, accuse her of being overly vulnerable and afraid, and then hope that somehow the tough love approach would get through to her and she would change her mind about wanting to seek outside "help."