P.S. I Still Love You(92)

Kitty’s been running around with her friends, and she’s deigned to help me out at the cake walk for an hour when Peter walks in with his little brother, Owen. “Pour Some Sugar on Me” is playing. Kitty goes over to say hello, while I busy myself looking at my phone as she’s showing them the cakes. I’ve got my head down, pretend-texting, when Peter comes up beside me.

“Which cake is yours? The coconut one?”

My head snaps up. “I would never buy a grocery-store cake for this.”

“I was joking, Covey. Yours is the caramel one. I can tell by the way you frosted it so fancy.” He stops talking and shoves his hands in his pockets. “So, just so you know, I didn’t go to the nursing home with Gen to help her tag you out.”

I shrug. “For all I know you’ve already texted her and told her I’m here, so.”

“I told you, I don’t give a shit about this game. I think it’s dumb.”

“Well, I don’t. I’m still planning on winning.” I put on the next song for the cake walk, and all the kids run into position. “So are you and Genevieve back together?”

He makes a rude sound. “What do you care?”

Again I shrug. “I knew you’d be back with her eventually.”

Peter smarts at this. He turns like he’s going to leave, but then he stops. Rubbing the back of his neck, he says, “You never answered my question about McClaren. Was that a date?”

“What do you care?”

His nostrils flare. “I f*cking care because you were my girlfriend up until a few weeks ago. I don’t even remember why we broke up.”

“If you can’t remember, then I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Just tell the truth. Don’t dick me around.” His voice cracks on the word “dick.” Any other time we would have laughed about it. I wish we could now. “What’s going on with you and McClaren?”

There’s a lump in my throat that’s making it hard to talk all of a sudden. “Nothing.” Just a kiss. “We’re friends. He’s been helping me with the game.”

“How convenient. First he’s writing you letters, now he’s driving you around town and hanging out with you at a nursing home.”

“You said you didn’t care about the letters.”

“Well, I guess I did.”

“Then maybe you should have said so.” Kitty’s looking over at us, her forehead pinched. “I don’t walk to talk about this anymore. I’m here to work.”

Peter eyes me. “Have you kissed him?”

Do I tell the truth? Do I have to? “Yes. Once.”

He blinks. “So you’re telling me I’ve been living the life of a celibate person ever since we started this stupid game—before, even—and meanwhile you’re fooling around with McClaren?”

“We’re broken up, Peter. Meanwhile, when we were actually together, you were with Genevieve—”

He throws his head back and yells, “I didn’t kiss her!” Some of the adults turn and look at us.

“You had your arms around her,” I whisper-yell. “You were holding her!”

“I was comforting her. God! She was crying! I told you! Did you do it to get back at me?” Peter wants me to say yes. He wants it to have been about him. But I wasn’t thinking about Peter when I kissed John. I kissed him because I wanted to.

“No.”

The muscle in his jaw twitches. “When we broke up, you said you wanted to be someone’s number one girl, but look at you. You don’t want to have a number one guy.” He gestures rudely at the cake table. “You want to have your cake and eat it too.”

His words sting just the way he intends them to. “I hate that saying. What does it even mean? Of course I want to have my cake and eat it too—otherwise what’s the point of having cake?”

He frowns at me. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

The song finishes then, and the kids come over to claim their cakes. Kitty and Owen, too. “Let’s go,” Owen says to Peter. He’s got my caramel cake.

Peter glances down at him and then back at me, his eyes hard. “I don’t want that one.”

“That’s the one you told me to get!”

“Well, I don’t want it anymore. Put it back and get the Funfetti down there at the end.”