Well Played (Well Met #2)(80)

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? ? ?

Mom wasn’t the only one who noticed my inner turmoil.

Saturday night, there was a knock on my door. I was a mess, scrolling through Instagram on my phone while wearing leggings and a tank top, but since I was expecting it to be my mom I opened the door without thinking about it. To her credit, April didn’t comment on my slovenly appearance. She just peered past me into my apartment.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks.” I squinted at her. April was one of those people whose sarcasm was so dry that it was impossible to tell if she was serious. But I gave her the benefit of the doubt and waved her in.

“No, I mean it.” She walked a slow circle through the main living space, and when she turned back to me her smile was genuine, if a little shy. “This is exactly the kind of apartment I’ve always wanted. When I was younger, you know? I pictured myself living in the city—New York or Chicago—in a cute little place like this.”

“Be kind of crowded though, with you and Caitlin.”

She snorted. “Well, I gave up on that dream when she came along.” She shrugged. “I got Caitlin out of it though, so I call it a win.”

“I would, too.” And I meant it. Even though kids weren’t high on my list of priorities, I liked Caitlin. She was a good kid with a solid support system in her mom and aunt. Anyone who said that a child needed both parents in order to thrive was going to have to fight me.

“Anyway.” April looked me up and down, assessing. “Come on. Get some pants on.”

I looked down at my ensemble. “Leggings are pants.”

“Nope.” She leaned down to give Benedick a scritch under his chin and he closed his eyes in contentment. “I mean real pants. We’re going out.”

“We are?” Were we at a solo hangout level of friendship? I hadn’t realized.

But she nodded, so apparently we were. “It’s Saturday night, and you’re, what, surfing Instagram in your pajamas?”

“These are not pajamas.” That was a weak defense, and I knew it. She knew it.

“Look. I don’t know what went down with you and Daniel, but something did, and now you’re wallowing.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Emily had a feeling that something was up, and she asked me to check up on you while she was gone.”

“She did?” That brought a sting of tears to my eyes. I’d been so careful to not say anything, but Emily had still known.

“Yeah. But honestly, after book club I think I would have been over here anyway. You need a distraction that’s not a badly symbolized women’s fiction novel.” April looked to the ceiling, then down to the floor, shifting her weight a little. Reaching out wasn’t something she did much, obviously, and that made it even more meaningful. “So come on. Let’s go to Jackson’s, have some pizza, and watch Mitch hit on girls. That’s always a good time.”

That brought a smile to my face. “You’re on.”

My hair was a disaster, so I threw it into a ponytail before trading my leggings and tank for jeans and a hoodie. My makeup could have used a refresh, but I didn’t know how long April was willing to wait, and I wasn’t planning to flirt with anyone tonight. So I put on some lip gloss and called it good enough.

Once at Jackson’s we secured a booth in the back, ordered an obnoxiously large pizza, and settled in for some people watching. The great thing about Jackson’s was that even though it was a local hangout, it was close enough to the highway that there were occasionally new faces in the mix.

“So.” April reached for a second slice of pizza. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about. You’re the one who said that pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to make you see the light.”

“There really isn’t. It’s a useless pizza topping and I’m gonna stand by that.” She took a bite and chewed. “But that’s not what I asked and you know it. Emily filled me in on . . . well, on what she knew, but there have obviously been some developments in the Daniel situation.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “And no. I don’t want to talk about it.” What was there to say? He’d fucked up, but after his email I was pretty sure I forgave him. But I’d fucked up too, and now it was too late. No, there really wasn’t anything to say, but I pulled up Daniel’s final email and pushed the phone across the table. April picked it up, squinting at the screen. For an excruciating few minutes we were quiet. I looked around the bar and watched Mitch get turned down by a woman who clearly wasn’t good enough for him anyway, while April ate that second slice of pizza and read about my broken heart.

A cough from April brought my attention back to her. “Jesus.” She blinked rapidly and pushed my phone back across the table to me. “And you haven’t answered him?”

“No . . .” Just as the word came out of my mouth, Mitch plopped down in our booth next to me.

“What the hell are you girls doing back here? No one’s going to notice you here.”

“That’s kind of the point.” April’s eyes narrowed as Mitch took a slice of our pizza. “No, really. Help yourself.”

“Thanks, Mama.”