Until There Was You(84)

“I don’t see how that would serve anyone,” he said. “You and I were hardly in a serious relationship. It really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

Oh, that stung. “You know nothing about women,” Posey whispered. “And you’re a jerk, too.”

“Posey,” Dante said, his voice low. “Look. Maybe you’re right. But this thing with Gretchen is… Well…it could be serious. If you tell her now, that would be the end of it.”

From upstairs came the sound of running water. Posey disentangled herself from Shilo and stood up and folded her arms. “Listen up, Dante. If I tell or don’t tell, it has nothing to do with you and your feelings and your whatever. You don’t matter at all. She matters. So if I think she should know, I’ll say something. If I don’t, I won’t. But I don’t give a rat’s ass about what you think. Clear?”

“So clear.”

“I’m all set!” Gretchen breezed back into the room, hair perfect, a different outfit now. She held a small satchel in her hand.

“Oh, Louis Vuitton!” Dante said. “Very nice!”

Posey snorted. They might be perfect together.

“See you tomorrow, Posey,” Gretchen said, beaming at her, and for just a second, Posey could see what it might be like to have Gretchen as a friend, to have a cousin who truly was as close as a sister.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“SO ELISE,” POSEY said a few days after learning about Dante and Gretchen. “Say you had a very, um… A fling with a guy. Slept with him a few times, it didn’t work out. No hearts broken, not a big deal. Then a friend of yours started seeing him, but she didn’t know that you and he had been together. Should you tell her?”

Both Ask Amy and Dr. Joy had said no…well, they’d said no in similar cases that Posey had found on the web. Posey was hoping for further validation.

“You should totally tell her!” Elise said.

“Really? Because I was thinking— I mean, this person was thinking that if the fling really didn’t matter and would only hurt the person to know about it, then telling would just be mean.”

“But seriously?” Elise said. “I mean, say I’d slept with Liam? Like, wouldn’t that matter to you?”

Posey paused. “Did you sleep with Liam?”

Elise laughed. “No? Of course not! I haven’t even, like, met him. Anyway, you should tell. Want to get lunch? I’m starving.”

“Sure. Where you calling?”

“China City?”

“Okay. I’ll have two egg rolls, some sesame noodles and the General Tsao’s chicken. Fried rice, too. Pork, okay?” Maybe she should tell Gretchen. One thing was for certain: it was very strange, being friends with Gretchen. Suddenly, clothes didn’t litter every surface, and the kitchen was cleaned up. Not only that, Gret was being…sweet.

“Hey, I made you and Liam some goodies,” she’d said that very morning. “You know, in case it’s your night.” She smiled—nicely. “You two serious?”

Posey grimaced. “Um…I’m not quite sure. I think so.”

“You make a great couple. Okay, gotta run. Sauerbraten tonight. Takes some prep, let me tell you. Hey, what do you think? The food’s better these days, isn’t it?”

“Oh, definitely,” Posey said. Then again, she wasn’t exactly renowned for her palate.

“You know, I found a can of sauerkraut from 1996,” Gretchen said, laughing. “I said, ‘Mutti, are you trying to kill us?’”

For once, Gretchen’s co-opting of her parents didn’t feel like theft. It felt…natural. Gret’s parents were dead, she really did love Max and Stacia…let her call them Mutti and Papa. No harm done.

On Sunday, when Guten Tag wouldn’t open until five, Posey drove to her parents’ house for lunch. Gretchen was going to drop her bombshell, and she’d asked Posey to be there as an ally.

Her parents lived in a classic American neighborhood, the kind that had been great at Halloween, when Posey would end up with an entire pillowcase of candy (most of which Stacia would purge, looking for razor blades or rat poison). The addition still made her wince a little—not because it was ugly, but because her parents’ fooling around had caused the fire that destroyed the bedroom, and what kid wanted to think about that? Putting such thoughts aside, she ran up the steps to the front door.

Henry and Jon were already there, and Gretchen was in the kitchen, wrapped in one of Stacia’s aprons.

“It smells fantastic in here,” Posey said.

“I thought we’d have something a little different today,” Gretchen said, setting a giant bowl on the table, and though Stacia scowled suspiciously at each piece of ziti, the rest of them fell upon the food like a Biblical horde of locusts. Twenty minutes after they’d sat down, most of the food was gone, though Posey had managed to nab the last of the pasta, to Henry’s chagrin.

“My God, Gret, I had no idea you could cook like that,” Jon said, sinking back into his chair.

Max leaned back and loosened his belt. “I don’t generally like Italian food,” he said, “but that was delicious.”

“Wonderful, darling,” Stacia said. “Almost as good as the spaetzle you made last week. And the Wiener schnitzel! Amazing.”