Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(29)

“No, no! I’m fine. My friend is just a little late,” I tell her.

“Sure,” she says. Is that pity in her gaze? “Just flag me down if you change your mind.”

Just then the door opens. This has got to be him, I think, willing it to be Doug.

It’s not. Feeling like I’ve just been slapped, I drop my gaze to my lap, away from the people who just came in. Please, no. It seems my bones have just evaporated, and my heart begins to pound. Don’t let them see me. Shit, shit, shit. Don’t let them see me.

“Maggie? Oh, my God! It is you!”

I look up with a firm smile. “Skip. Hello.”

Mr. and Mrs. Skip Parkinson stand at my table. I stand up, too, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I’ve seen Skip twice in one month after a decade of reprieve.

“Wow!” Skip announces. “You look just the same! It’s so great to see you! You remember Annabelle, don’t you? Annie, this is Maggie, a girl I went to school with.”

A girl you slept with, too. The first one. The one whose heart you broke in public. “Hello. I don’t think we’ve met.”

I didn’t get a look at her face in the rain a few weeks ago, but now I see that her features are small and delicate and girlish. Her makeup is perfect, subtle, invisible except for her deep red lipstick, which looks daring and provocative on her. We shake hands, and I can’t help wince as my peasantlike paw envelops her satiny, manicured hand.

“Hello, Maggie,” she says, and she has a soft drawl. “It’s so lovely to meet any old friend of Skip’s.”

“Uh, thank you.” I can’t bring myself to look Skip directly in the face, and the three of us stand there awkwardly. Finally I say, “Well, um, would you like to sit down?” and instantly regret my foolish offer.

“Oh, well, now, we don’t want to intrude,” Annabelle says politely.

“Meeting someone, Maggie?” Skip asks, glancing at the empty place across from me.

“Well, yes. I’m meeting a friend, and I got here a little early, and, um, well, please join me.” I sit down heavily and swallow. They sit on either side of me, flanking me. I can’t help it anymore—I look at Skip.

He is still wonderfully handsome. His boyish face has improved with age, crinkles and lines giving him character that was lacking before. A neatly trimmed goatee hides his soft chin—he used to hate those profile shots when he was at bat. His suit looks expensive, a soft, dove gray with a dark blue tie.

“So how’ve you been, Maggie?” he asks, and instead of awkwardness or shame in his voice, there’s a touch of arrogance.

“Fine, fine, great,” I babble. “And you? How are things?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Skip answers. “Right, Annie?”

She gives a cute little smile and rolls her eyes, as if to say, “Isn’t he a nut?”

“Still working at the diner, Maggie?” Skip wants to know.

I take a long pull of my wine and glance hopefully at the door. If you came in now, Doug, I’d kiss you. Hell, I’d have sex with you right on this table. “Yes. Um, I own it now.” What is usually a source of pride to me now sounds slightly embarrassing. A diner owner. Never left Gideon’s Cove after you dumped me. Couldn’t even find a different job.

“That’s very interesting,” Annabelle says. I wonder if he’s ever told her about me. If so, she must have ice water in her veins, because she looks calm and relaxed. She smiles pleasantly.

“Do you work, Annabelle?” I ask. It’s easier to look at her than at Skip.

“Well, not any more,” she admits. “Not since Henry was born. Our oldest. I do a little pro bono work on the side.”

“She’s a lawyer,” Skip announces loudly.

“Well, now, honey, that’s sweet,” she says affectionately. “Maggie, I was a lawyer before having the children, but now, between them and trying to take care of the house and all, I just don’t have the time.”

Lawyer, wife, mother. “So are you visiting your parents, Skip?” I manage to ask. My heart is thudding in my temples, and I try to keep my hands on my lap so they won’t see that they’re shaking.

“Exactly. We left the kids with them, thought we’d go out and grab a bite.”

“It’s our anniversary,” Annabelle says with another doe-like look at Skip.

“That’s great,” I say. Much to my disgust, I feel tears prick at my eyes. I clear my throat and say, “Well, don’t let me keep you from your romantic dinner. It was nice seeing you—”

“Oh, not at all,” Annabelle interrupts. “This is wonderful, two old friends getting the chance to catch up. We can surely spare a few moments.”

Southern hospitality at its finest. I keep my eyes on the tablecloth.

“You’re not married, are you, Maggie?” Skip asks. His voice is like a knife. He must know that I’m not. His parents still live in town. They even come to the diner once in a great while.

“No,” I answer.

“Any kids?” he asks, his eyes boring into me. I wonder why he’s being so cruel.

“Nope. No kids.” I force a smile as I say it.

“And you’re meeting friends tonight?” Annabelle says.