Sweet Forty-Two(51)

I ground my back teeth together, reminding myself he was speaking from a place of anger and pain, but it still pissed me off.

“You never give me a clear answer. There’s not one complete story I can remember about you. And, CJ’s no help. He just tells me to watch out for you. Who the hell am I watching out for? It’s all like mismatched puzzle pieces I’m expected to just put together without any questions.”

The frustration on his face highlighted every person I’d ever pushed away in my life. In order to protect them, I thought. Regan’s eyes, though, looked anything but protected.

“Can you just ... hear me out for a second?” I grabbed the fabric of my apron, twisting it around my hands.

Regan shook his head and lifted the envelope. “I’ve got some wounds to go sew up. Right after they’re torn the f*ck open.”

With that he vacated my doorframe and left out the back door. His footsteps clomped angrily down the stairs, and I didn’t move until I heard his car start and the sound of the engine fade into the distance.

“Georgia?”

I jumped, her voice still out of place here. Turning around, I found my mom halfway up the stairs.

“How much did you hear?” I asked, crossing my arms over my stomach to prevent my guts from spilling out in front of her.

She closed her eyes, clearing her throat before ascending the rest of the way. “It wasn’t what I heard, Georgia. It’s what I saw.”

“I don’t have time for riddles today, Mom.” I sighed, fighting tears with what little fight I had left in my body.

She shook her head, a small, faraway smile on her face. “It’s what I saw when I told him I was your mother. He was confused, and, honestly, looked hurt. It was the perverse, horrified shock on your face when you saw the two of us standing in the doorway together. Did you tell him I was dead, like you told all of your high school friends?”

I pursed my lips, the last line of defense against my tears. “Mom...”

“Sweetie.” She tentatively reached up and tucked some hair behind my ear. I let her.

“I didn’t tell him you were dead. But—”

“You didn’t exactly tell him I was alive and kicking.”

“I hadn’t gotten there yet. He’s CJ’s cousin. Remember my friend CJ from the Cape?”

“Ah yes,” my mother smiled, scanning her memory by looking at the ceiling, “the underage boy who your father let play the drums at Dunes?”

I chuckled. “That’s the one, though we’re well past underage now.”

“And he lives next door?”


I nodded.

She took a breath. “Go.”

“What?”

“Go, Georgia. Go be honest with him.”

“Mom, I don’t have time for this. You just got out of...”

She gripped my shoulders, looking deadly as she caught my gaze. “I am not your responsibility, Georgia. You’re mine. As your mother, I’m telling you, make amends with someone who means that much to you.”

“Means that much to me?”

“That apartment has sat empty for six months. Go. We’ll talk about the decor of your bakery when you get back. Let me into your apartment, I’ll wait for you until you come back.” She held out her hand, the arch in her eyebrow signaling the definite end of our conversation.

I handed her the key and headed for the back door, stopping to turn around when I reached it. “What do I say?”

My mom looked almost embarrassed as she spoke the words, “The truth.”

Truth. A single word, whose antonyms underscored my entire life, was the only thing that could save my friendship with Regan.

Was it a friendship?

Truthfully—there’s that word again—besides Lissa, who was a strict “work friend,” Regan was the closest thing to a friend I’d had since CJ. So far, “things we knew about each other” sculpted the parameters of that friendship and, well, I was scoring a zero there.

Yes, he was my friend. And, I wanted to be his.

So, with a nod to my mom, I left the building and sat in my car for five minutes before starting the engine and heading to find him. Though, I had an idea where he’d be.

Twenty minutes later I was navigating the sandy neighborhoods of North Cove, in search of the Hippie Dream-house. Thankfully, the night CJ brought me back here, I had been sober enough to remember the general direction, but it was dark that night and I was tired, so that complicated things.

I recognized Regan’s car as soon as I saw it, and I sighed in relief as I pulled in behind it. Getting out of the car, I saw Ember in her seemingly usual spot in the sand just beyond their deck, only this time she wasn’t in a headstand.

I approached quietly, not sure what the etiquette was to interrupting someone’s ohm, though I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to at all. When I got within six, or so, feet of her, I stopped, looking around and playing with my hands like I was eight years old and waiting to be picked for a dodgeball team.

“Hi Georgia,” she said in a seductively smooth exhale, while moving from one position I had no name for to another.

“Hi. Um...” Discussion between Ember and I had been tense at best, disastrous at worst, and I didn’t know how to ask where one of her friends was so I could apologize for offending them.