Bad Cruz(65)

On the other hand, I couldn’t bear the idea of preventing my son from having a male figure in his life—his own father, no less. I didn’t want to deprive him of anything. He deserved to have two loving parents, and Rob claimed he was a changed man.

“You know,” I said, crushing a piece of popcorn in the bowl between my fingers. “When your father and I first met, everyone thought he was going to become a professional football player. He was a rabid Panthers fan. He had a football with all of the players’ signatures. All of them. And he kept it in a cold, dry place in his garage so the signatures wouldn’t fade. He once told me he wanted to give the football to his son. I’d thought it was such a sweet thing to say.”

Bear looked at me like I’d peed in his popcorn bowl, before rolling his eyes.

“I don’t even like football.” I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, he stood up and shook his head. “And I don’t like jerks, either. So this doesn’t bode well for him. If you let people walk all over you, you’re giving them the power to hurt you. Good news is, Dr. Costello is off the hook even though they’re friends, but only because I want to play Assassin’s Creed real bad. Good night, Mom.”Tennessee





The next day, I’d texted Rob during my morning shift at Jerry & Sons and told him that Bear had asked for more time.

Rob: Thanks for the update. Will you keep me posted?

Me: Yes.

Rob: I ran into your dad downtown yesterday. He had a flat tire. Helped him fix it.

Me: Surprised he didn’t murder you.

Rob: He wanted to. It helped that we had an audience.

Me: Shame.

Rob: What would you say if I asked you to have dinner with me?

Me: I would say you are completely delusional and should probably lay off the drugs.

Rob: Gotcha. Will try again next week.

Cruz, however, was another story.

I had no responsibility toward him, and there were no loose ends for us to tie. He tried calling me in the morning, but I sent him straight to voicemail and sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to drop in at the diner.

We’d agreed to put our little affair behind us after the cruise, and now that we were back in town, there was no point in prolonging the inevitable.

Three days later, after a long shift full of patronizing customers and snafus, a local woman who accused me of trying to write down her credit card details when she paid (I didn’t) and Coulter, who had decided he was going to stop making food with onion since it made him cry, I rushed to the bridal salon where Trinity had a fitting.

I burst in midway through the event to find my mother sitting on a crème upholstered couch at the back of the bridal shop, bawling her eyes out, and Gabriella sipping from a flute of champagne with a sour face and a bright pink gown.

Trinity stood on the bridal viewing riser in her wedding gown, a flawless lace corset with a chapel train and an embroidered diamond belt.

She was pouting to the mirror, whining to the salon employee that the zipper was digging into her nonexistent back fat.

“How am I supposed to even drink water in this thing? I knew the cruise was a bad idea. I should’ve never hit the all-you-can-drink bar. Oh, hi, Nessy.”

She caught a glimpse of me through the floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of her. My mother and Gabriella turned their heads to look at me.

“Hi, honey.” My mother peeped, wiping the tears from her face. “Look how beautiful your sister is.”

Gabriella said nothing. I huddled across the parquet floor toward the sitting area and clapped my hands together.

“Trinity, you look divine.”

“I agree about the zipper. You could really use a bit more space. Or maybe just go on a crash diet. Atkins, anyone?” Gabriella murmured, her eyes hard on her phone as she scrolled through Instagram, liking people’s pictures with a grim expression on her face.

“She doesn’t have any extra weight to lose,” I pointed out, taking a seat next to my mother.

“There’s always weight to be lost,” Mom said longingly, patting her own midriff, which was genetically a little wider than she wanted it to be.

The shop employee excused herself to go bring her sewing kit and dashed out of the room. Trinity spun from the mirror, stepping down from the riser and approaching us.

“I was just telling Gabriella about the cruise. It was pretty lavish, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Very posh.” I tried not to bring too much attention to myself, knowing Gabriella and I were not exactly best of friends.

“Yeah.” Gabriella flipped her dark hair onto one shoulder, sipping her champagne. “Cruz told me all about it.”

Did he now?

I didn’t think they’d have much reason to talk, considering they’d broken up.

Then again, I didn’t really think Cruz would be so happy to see Rob, either, and he’d had a back-slapping good time on my lawn.

“You guys are still talking?” Trinity chirped, her eyes lighting up. “That’s a good sign.”

I wanted to strangle my sister in that moment, but I reminded myself that she didn’t know Cruz and I had a thing.

Gabriella put her champagne on a nearby table, stretching her shapely legs. “Oh, yeah. We’re kind of finding our way back to each other. Slowly. I think we both freaked out a little, what with you and Wyatt getting married. It’s just a lot of pressure on both of us, you know? I have my new business—”