The Inmate (21)

Estelle’s false eyelashes flutter as if she’s shocked I spoke to her that way. I certainly would not have said something like that back when I was this high.

“You know,” she says, “your parents would be very disappointed that you disobeyed their wishes.”

Truthfully, I’m shocked my parents left me the house at all. After I started mailing their monthly checks back to them, uncashed, I figured I was out of the will. But there was no one else for them to leave their estate to. So I got it all by default.

I fold my arms across my chest. “Please don’t bother me again, Estelle.”

Her bright red lips part, and for a moment, I’m certain she’s going to argue with me. But instead, she turns on her heel and gets back into her Lincoln. Her car zooms away just as Tim’s Prius slides into my driveway. I take a deep breath, trying to dispel the tension from our confrontation. It works—a little.

“Wow,” Tim says when I climb into the passenger’s seat. “I haven’t seen you dressed up in a long time.”

I squirm as I slide the seatbelt into place. “I’m not dressed up.”

“Right. Me either.”

Although he does look a bit dressed up. He’s wearing a light blue dress shirt, and he’s even put on a tie. Back when we were kids, I never saw him wear anything besides a T-shirt and jeans, but this suits him.

I don’t invite him to come in, and he doesn’t seem upset about it. I don’t know what Josh will make of me bringing home some guy, especially if that guy is the assistant principal of his school. At the very least, it could start some uncomfortable rumors.

“Where are we going?” I ask him.

“It’s a bar that opened up a few years ago—the Shamrock. It’s pretty quiet, decent food. Or just beer, if that’s all you want.”

I nod, musing to myself that the last time I saw Tim, neither of us was old enough to drink legally. Now that milestone has come and gone.

“So how is Josh finding school?” Tim asks.

“Fine,” I say. “He’s making some friends.”

“That’s great. Kindergarten is such a hard transition, but I’m sure he’ll do great.”

I freeze. I had assumed that when Tim looked me up in the school records, he figured out that Josh was in fifth grade. Apparently not. He still thinks my son is five years old. Which means he doesn’t know that Josh is Shane’s son.

And I really, really don’t want to tell him. Not yet. Not when he’s looking over at me during the red lights and smiling at me that way.

The Shamrock is only a five-minute drive away. Tim parks in the lot outside the bar, and he rushes around the side of the car to open the door for me, even though I have already got it open myself. This isn’t a date, but he’s being a gentleman, which is insanely sweet. Men aren’t like that in New York City. You have to go upstate for good manners, apparently.

Inside the bar is about what I expected. Dark, a slight hint of smokiness hanging in the air, and a lot of sticky tables spread out through the room. We grab a table in the back, and this time it comes as no surprise when Tim pulls out my chair for me.

“When did you get to be such a gentleman?” I tease him.

“I wasn’t before?”

“Ha!” I snort. “I was lucky if you didn’t pull my chair out from under me.”

“Brooke!” He clutches his chest in mock horror. “I would never have done that. Unless you deserved it, of course.”

“I’m just saying…” I look across the table at his twinkling blue eyes. “You don’t have to act all formal with me. We’ve known each other since we were in diapers. We know each other pretty well.”

He arches an eyebrow. “We used to. Now—not so much.”

Before I can figure out what to say to that, a petite waitress in a tight T-shirt that shows off an impressive bust for her size comes over to take our order. She looks vaguely familiar, like many of the people in this town do—I think we may have gone to high school together. I let my hair fall in my face as I place my order, hoping I look different enough that she won’t recognize me.

Before she leaves, she rests a hand with red fingernails on Tim’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, Timmy.”

“Thanks, Kelli,” he says.

Kelli. It comes back to me in a flash—she was on the cheerleading squad like me and Chelsea, but two years behind us. She looks almost the same as she did back in high school—same blond hair and heart-shaped face, although much larger boobs. Thankfully, she isn’t looking at me and doesn’t seem to recognize me.

Actually, she’s only looking at Tim. She gives him an unmistakable look, and I’m surprised by the flash of jealousy. I haven’t seen Tim in ages. I have no right to feel proprietary around him.

“I tried to find you, you know,” he says after Kelli leaves with our drink orders.

I attempt not to react to that revelation. “Did you?”

“You are really hard to find though.” He eyes me across the table. “No social media, huh?”

My parents did their damnedest to keep my name out of the news when it all went down, given I was a minor. And while I was in school, they also gave me a small stipend—a monthly check that along with my waitressing job just barely covered my expenses without leaving a penny left over—and one stipulation was I couldn’t be on social media at all. No Facebook, no Twitter, no Instagram. It was easy to agree to that because I didn’t want to be on social media either. The last thing I wanted to do was catch up with my old classmates. Hey, Brooke, remember when your boyfriend tried to murder you? Man, those were good times.