Well Played (Well Met #2)(81)

“Mama?” April sat back against the booth and crossed her arms. “Wow. What a sexy nickname. Thanks a lot.”

Mitch raised one slow eyebrow. “You want a sexy nickname?”

For a second they locked eyes, and I was momentarily distracted from my own drama by the new potential drama unfolding in front of me. Finally April blinked. “No,” she said. “No, I don’t.”

“Good.” He took a big bite of pizza as his gaze traveled down to my phone. “What’s this? Did that guy stand you up again, Stacey? I swear I’m gonna . . .” He blinked at the phone, then looked up at me, his brow furrowed. “Daniel MacLean?”

Even hearing his name hurt. “Yeah.” My voice sounded rusty, so I cleared my throat and took another sip from my water glass.

“No.” Mitch shook his head. “You mean Dex. You were banging Dex MacLean, weren’t you?”

“What?” April said, just as I said “No,” and Mitch looked back and forth between us, not sure who to answer first.

“Yes, you were.” He scoffed. “Last summer. Summer before that too, I think.”

April folded her arms over her chest. “How did you know about that?” She sounded put out.

Mitch shrugged. “You want to know the Ren Faire gossip, you gotta join the Ren Faire.” She snorted in response, but I wanted to get back on topic.

“I didn’t think you knew,” I said. “We were pretty discreet.”

He scoffed. “Please.” But he didn’t elaborate. He looked down at the phone again. “So what’s with Daniel? I mean, I saw you dancing with him at the wedding, but I didn’t realize there was anything . . .” He made a hand gesture that I couldn’t even begin to interpret. “You know. Going on there.”

“Well, there’s nothing going on there now.” I sighed. The black mood was back. “We broke up. It’s for the best. He travels too much and wouldn’t want to live full-time here in Willow Creek anyway.” I trotted out the same argument I’d used with my mom.

“Okay . . .” Mitch dragged the word out into about four syllables as he swiped another slice of pizza, taking a bite before setting it down onto my plate. “I mean, that makes sense. You’ve got a lot keeping you here. Like your career.”

“My career?” My eyebrows shot up into my forehead. “I work in a dentist’s office. Not exactly my life’s dream.”

“Hmm.” He chewed thoughtfully. “So that’s not it. Is it your house? A mortgage can really tie you down.” He snapped his fingers. “No. Wait. You live above your parents’ garage.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yes, I do. You know that.”

“Yeah,” April chimed in. “That tiny place of yours, you practically live like a minimalist. You could probably fit everything you own in the trunk of your car.”

“Or the back of someone’s pickup truck,” Mitch added with a significant nod. “What does Daniel drive again?” He posed the question to April, who shrugged with a smile.

“I just don’t like having a lot of stuff. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Why were they making me feel so defensive? “You know, you two are not doing the best job of cheering me up right now.”

“And your mom’s doing okay these days . . .” Mitch still sounded unconcerned as he reached for his beer.

“She really is,” April said, talking to Mitch instead of to me. “I see her at Emily’s book club once a month. She’s had some health issues in the past, right? But she seems to be doing great now.”

“Yeah.” I thought back to my conversation with her last night. “She’s doing really well.”

“So.” Mitch looked down at my phone again. “Daniel. You love the guy?”

I caught my breath as tears stung the corners of my eyes. “I mean it. Your cheering-up technique really could use some work.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you or not?”

I threw up my hands. “Yes! I do. I really do. But it’s too late. He’s gone, remember?”

“I don’t think so.” He gestured to the phone. “Not according to this. What’s keeping you here, exactly? It’s not your job. It’s not your mom. Why aren’t you out on the road with him right now?”

“I can’t do that.” But it was an automatic denial, and even as I said the words there was a thrill in my chest. What if Mitch was right? What if my mom was right? What if I threw everything I cared about into a few bags and just . . . went for it?

April could see that I was wavering. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes.” I didn’t even have to think about the answer.

“Would you want to travel with him? Live that kind of life?”

I took the time to think about that. To consider living out of vehicles. Traveling from faire to faire. Living that life, speaking their language.

Being with Daniel.

It sounded perfect. Like the kind of life I’d always wanted, even when I didn’t know it.

And I’d said no, because I was too chickenshit. I’d turned him down and let him go.

I groaned and let my head fall into my hands. “God. I really fucked up, didn’t I?”