Well Matched (Well Met #3)(33)

“He practically runs the thing himself now.” I crossed my fingers under the table. Sorry, Simon. “They do this huge chess match fight thing with . . .” I started flagging here, because all I had to go on when it came to the Faire was my daughter’s incomplete reports from her weekly rehearsals, that video on Mitch’s phone I’d watched too many times, and that one time I’d gone to the Faire with my sister. But the hell if I was going to admit any of that right now. “Well, there’s swords and stuff. He wears a kilt, and I mean . . . I don’t have to tell you what he looks like.” I waved my hand at him in illustration. “He’s practically the main draw all by himself. And he does all of this as a volunteer. Out of the goodness of his heart. You volunteer a lot for your community, Bryce?”

Lulu laughed then, a thin bubble of amusement, while across the table from me the hedge fund douche turned bright red. I looked down the table at Lulu and she shot me a grin and a subtle thumbs-up. She still liked me, at least. But as my tirade came to an end an awkward silence fell over the table until Mitch cleared his throat.

“Well, I need more mac and cheese.” He stood up with his plate and took mine too. “And so do you. You’ve earned it, babe.”



* * *



? ? ?

Mitch was silent the entire drive back to the hotel. I sat in the passenger seat, a leftover container of macaroni and cheese that Grandma Malone had pushed into my hands gently warming my thighs. I still felt shaky as the adrenaline of ripping an entire table of Malones a new asshole drained away. Tears prickled in my eyes; some girlfriend I was. I’d completely fucked this up for him. It wasn’t about our agreement anymore. It didn’t matter what I’d been pretending to be. I’d been out of line, and I absolutely deserved the silent treatment he was giving me now.

I busied myself with my phone, sending Emily a text. Everything okay there? I couldn’t believe it had taken me until now to check on my daughter, but it had been a busy evening, yelling at Mitch’s family and all.

All good, came the reply as we pulled into the hotel parking lot. We went to the mall today and bought her a dress for graduation. She’s really excited about it, so ask to see it when you get home, okay? That might help.

God bless my sister. Will do, thanks.

Also, we were talking about her working at the bookstore this summer. You ok with that?

I raised my eyebrows as I texted back. Of course! Does she want to? We’d discussed Caitlin getting a summer job, to save up for the fall when she was in school. But volunteering for the Ren Faire was important to her, and I wasn’t about to ask her to give that up.

Definitely! She’s excited about it.

Then I’m on board too. That’s perfect. Sure, the bookstore wouldn’t pay a lot, but it was a good solution. More time with her aunt, some money for college . . . there was no bad here.

How’s it going there? Everything okay?

All good. My fingers were good at lying. See you tomorrow. Thanks again! I clicked my phone off and stowed it in my bag. The next twenty-four hours were going to be brutal, as we were stuck together until he dropped me off at home tomorrow afternoon. But I had to woman up and take it. I’d been through worse, right? I’d divorced the love of my life, my daughter’s father, when I was in my early twenties, and that’d almost killed me. I could handle this one night, as awful as it was going to be.

Inside the hotel room, Mitch tossed his keys onto the bureau and strode across the room to the window, staring out into the night with his hands on his hips. I blew out a long breath and slid the leftover container into the room’s mini-fridge. I wished he would say something. Anything. Start yelling at me so we could get this over with.

As the silence stretched out, I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry.” My voice shook, and I hated how small I sounded. But I pushed on. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“You didn’t need to do that.” The sound of my voice seemed to have woken him up, as he spoke over me. His voice was low, even. Giving nothing away. That was worse than yelling.

I nodded, though his back was still to me and he couldn’t see. “I know,” I said. The tears returned and I blinked hard against them. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry.” I probably shouldn’t have apologized so much, but I didn’t know what else to say. “I’ll skip brunch tomorrow, obviously. You can swing back here and pick me up on the way out of—”

“Wait, what?” He turned around, an incredulous look on his face. “Why the hell would you skip brunch?” He peered at my face and frowned. “Hey. Are you crying?”

“No,” I lied, but he was across the room in an instant, taking my face in his hands and dashing away my tears with his thumbs.

“Shhhh,” he said. “No, no, stop. Stop. There’s no reason for you to be upset. This is all my fault.”

“How?” I tried to focus on his words when all I wanted to do was lean into his touch. How was being here with him like this so comfortable? Until now, our friendship was mostly based on mutual antagonism and snark. It didn’t stretch to casual kisses in the backyard and wiping away my tears. “I’m the one that screwed up. It was my job to make you look good this weekend, not yell at your grandma.”

“Eh.” He waved a hand. “She’s tough, she can take it. Besides, you weren’t yelling at her so much as Bryce. And he deserved it; he was being a douche.” I gave a watery laugh—at least I’d gotten that part right. “No, I mean I should have filled you in better. But I thought . . .” He let go of me and strode back to the window with a deep sigh. “I thought they’d take me seriously this time.”