The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(22)

“Could you lower your voice, please?” Honor said, her face      burning.

“Oh, please. She hasn’t heard anything since Clinton was      president.” Dana cut her a glance, her face softening. “How many times have you      and I talked about just this exact thing? The guy you least expect to fall for      and then boom, you’ve fallen. And he happened to fall for me, too. We were just      chatting at the bar.” She gave Honor a small, smug smile. “And all of a sudden,      there was this charge in the air.”

Dana was gloating. Brogan and she knew each other, of course.      Sometimes, the three of them had gone out together. If there’d been any charge      in the air, Honor hadn’t noticed.

Dana was quiet for a minute. “I know you had a crush on him      since the dawn of time.”

“It was more than a crush, Dana. Don’t minimize my feelings to      make yourself feel less guilty.”

“I don’t feel guilty,” she said,      turning back to Mrs. Jenkins, her scissors flying in a sinister hiss. She got      paid sixty-five dollars a haircut, Honor knew. Sixty-five bucks for taking a      millimeter off someone’s hair. “Look, I know you were surprised. But I still      think you owe me an apology.”

The noise that came out of Honor’s mouth was somewhere between      a sputter, a choke and a laugh. “An apology?”

“Just a little trim around the ears,” Mrs. Jenkins said. “Not      too short, dear.”

“Got it, Mrs. Jenkins,” Dana barked. “Not too short.” Her voice      lowered, and she looked at Honor. “Yeah, an apology. I don’t appreciate having      wine thrown in my face, not to mention being shoved in a restaurant in front of      the guy I love.”

Honor’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “You have got to      be kidding me.”

“Listen. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you, but does that      mean that both Brogan and I are supposed to ignore what we feel for each other?”      Her words might’ve had more impact if her tone hadn’t been as sharp as her      scissors. The horrible, beautiful engagement ring flashed as her hands moved      over Mrs. Jenkins’s head. “Seriously, we didn’t plan it. It just happened.”

Oh, that infuriating phrase! Nothing just happened. Vaginas didn’t just happen to fall on penises.      Unspoken words bubbled up like lava. Do I look that stupid?       You were supposed to be my friend. You made me a martini that night. I cried       on your couch! We watched Shark Week! And a few       weeks later, you were sleeping with the guy who broke my heart. For crying       out loud, you told me in a bar. Two against one, in a bar.

Yes, she could say those things, and denigrate her pride even      further. Remind Dana just how pathetic she’d been...and give Dana more chance to      gloat. Because wasn’t that what she was doing?

“I guess we have different ideas of what it means to be      friends,” she said tightly.

“Yeah. Friends don’t throw wine in their friends’ faces.”

“Fine. I was very surprised, and I reacted badly. But I seem to      remember you reacting just as badly in return.”

“Someone throws wine into my face, yeah, I do react badly.” She      gave Honor a little smile. “So. Are we good?”

In the mirror, Honor saw her own mouth fall open. She closed      it. “I don’t know that we’re ever going to be good, Dana.”

“Why? Water under the bridge, right? It was dramatic, you feel      embarrassed, so do I, a little.” She shrugged, still smiling. “Let’s get past      it. I mean, what else are we gonna do? Hate each other forever? Okay. I have to      put this hearing aid back in or the old bag will start to suspect something.”      Unexpectedly, she gave Honor a quick hug. “I’m glad we talked. I mean, yeah,      things’ll be weird for a while, but we’re still best friends, right? And hell’s      bells, girl, I have a wedding to plan!”

“Oh, I love weddings,” Mrs. Jenkins said, adjusting her hearing      aid.

“Come by the salon, and I’ll shape up your bangs,” Dana said.      “See you soon!”

And, because she didn’t know what else to say, and really,      really wanted to get out of there, Honor left.





CHAPTER FOUR

HAVING TWO GLASSES of whiskey probably wasn’t the most brilliant idea before a fix-up, Tom thought. But he wasn’t driving. And also, though he hated to point out the obvious, even to himself, it was too late. One could not undrink whiskey, unless one vomited, which Tom was not going to do.