In My Dreams I Hold a Knife(12)

I really was a nobody. Nothing but background noise, filler, and I’d been blind to it. That day, I swore: never again.

But Elizabeth’s comment made me feel like I’d been a nobody all four years of college and hadn’t realized. Is that what people truly thought of me?

“What trolls,” Caro muttered, when we were past hearing range. “Sharks, hunting for blood.”

Something about Caro’s face, so serious and angry, spilled sunlight through the dark places in my mind. I wrapped my arm around her and squeezed. “You really are the greatest friend.”

“Well, keep that in mind, because I actually am walking us over to Courtney.”

“What? No!” I tried to disentangle.

“Too bad, we’re here—this will be good for you. Hi, Courtney!” Caro plastered a giant smile over her face. I glanced around. We really were here: in the tenth circle of hell, with the Chi Os.

Courtney stopped talking to the girl beside her, eyes laser-focusing on me. A satisfied smile stretched her mouth. With her ridiculous chest-to-waist ratio and glossy hair, she looked like a living, breathing Barbie doll. Who’d just been handed the one thing she wanted most in the world.

“Caro! And Jessica—so good to see you. It’s been so long since the wedding.” She kissed Caro’s cheek, then mine, while I stood stiff. The Chi Os gave us a wide berth.

“Speaking of, sorry I had to leave early,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m not sure if Mint told you, but I had to catch a plane to Paris with my boyfriend at the time. Chris Beshear of the Manhattan Beshears—you might know him.”

Courtney tilted her head. “I heard you’re single again. What a shame. Paris is the perfect place to get engaged. Sorry it didn’t work out for you.”

Caro looked like she was trying desperately to figure out some way to cut in, but her mind couldn’t work fast enough.

“Oh,” I said, with faux surprise. “You like Paris? I assumed your taste was a little more down to earth. Like, you know, American fast-food chains. You and Mint did first hook up in a Wendy’s bathroom, right?”

A Chi O next to us gasped. Courtney reddened. It was one of my trump cards, and I wished I hadn’t used it so early, but she was just too much in person, not a flaw on her, not a slip in her delivery. I knew a few of her dirty secrets, though, including where she and Mint first hooked up, wasted after a night out. I knew because Mint had confessed it to me in person, tears in his eyes.

Just as Courtney opened her mouth, someone walked into my line of sight. I turned and found the source of everything.

Mark Minter. The man I was supposed to marry.

“Jess.” He gave me the same appraising look he always did, the one that made me stand at attention, wanting to measure up right. He leaned in and put a cool hand on my naked back, pressing me into a hug. My skin tingled with goose bumps.

“Mint, you asshole, took you long enough to show up.” Caro grinned at him.

“Hi, Tiny.” He gripped her in a hug. “Good to see you, too.” I watched them embrace, using the excuse to study him. He’d aged. He was still the most handsome boy—man, I supposed—in the room, but the chiseled lines of his face had softened with age. It was a little less of a shock to look at him.

A booming voice cut in. “Is that Caroline Rodriguez and Jessica Miller? No, it can’t be, because they would have searched the whole party for me the instant they got here, desperate to see their best friend Frankie.”

Frankie strode up from the bar with two whiskeys and handed one to Mint, then grabbed Caro in a bear hug. Of course—wherever Mint was, Frankie was no more than a step behind. He still wore his hair shaved like in college, but now his suits fit perfectly, even though his shoulders had somehow grown broader. The suits had gotten a lot nicer, too.

Frankie dropped Caro and hugged me. “Look at you. Damn, Miller, bringing the heat. Minty, aren’t you sad you—” Frankie stopped and swallowed. Courtney’s eyebrows were currently located north of her hairline. “Sorry, old habits. Anyway, look at this reunion! God, it’s good to see you guys.”

One of the Chi Os lingering at the edge of our conversation giggled. “Frankie, I promised my husband I’d get a picture with you. He’s a huge Saints fan. Is that okay?” Her eyes dropped demurely, like simply holding his gaze was an honor.

Frankie shoved his drink at Caro, who accepted it automatically, and rushed over. “I’d never leave a fan hanging. Want to make it a video? What’s the lucky guy’s name?”

I rolled my eyes and caught Mint’s gaze halfway through. Out of habit, we grinned at each other. “Something tells me being an NFL star has gone to Frankie’s head,” he said.

“Really? I was thinking, wow, Frankie hasn’t changed since college.”

Mint laughed. Courtney slid her arm through his and side-eyed me.

“What I want to know,” Caro said, “is what Frankie’s dad is up to. Remember how that man lived and breathed Frankie’s football career? He must be living his best life.”

Mint groaned. “Everything you’re thinking, triple it. Frankie’s dad moved from Hawaii to live in his pool house. He pretty much follows Frankie everywhere, even on the road. It’s not living vicariously—he’s literally living Frankie’s life.”