P.S. I Like You(48)

“Yes. Lots of kids. How about yours?”

“Cade came over.” I felt like I had to tell her every little thing that had to do with Cade now so she didn’t think I was hiding anything from her.

“What?” Her expression was as shocked as her voice. “Why?”

“Wyatt invited him.” She already knew that Cade was my brother’s baseball coach this season.

She gasped. “He didn’t.”

“He did.”

“And?” she prompted, her eyes growing even bigger.

“And Cade was here for over three hours.”

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry. You must’ve had an awful day.”

I shook my head several times. “No. Quite the opposite actually. We called a truce and the day was pleasant.”

She laughed. “A truce. Your idea or his? Never mind, I don’t know why I’m asking. That totally sounds like you.”

I shoved her arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re funny, that’s all. So, wow, you and Cade are getting along now. It’s a miracle. Do you think it has to do with the letters? Does he know it was you?”

“No. He has no idea. And when the clock struck midnight—well, when he left—the truce was over. We are so not friends. He and his girlfriend did get me sentenced to two weeks of detention, after all. I have a grudge to uphold.”

“You never did explain to me exactly how that happened.”

“A substitute teacher and a case of mistaken identity.”

Isabel smiled. “That sounds like a mystery novel.”

“It should be. Anyway, it was dumb. Sasha stole my seat and proceeded to do awful things in my name.” I threw my legs over Isabel’s lap on the couch. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

“How are things with Lucas?” Isabel asked.

I frowned, realizing I hadn’t thought of Lucas once today. “He hasn’t called or texted at all.”

“That’s not a big deal.”

“It’s been over a week!” I protested.

“But it’s Thanksgiving weekend. Maybe he went out of town or something,” she said. “It’ll be fine.”

I picked at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “But … if it doesn’t work out with him, I’ll be fine.”

“Why are you already writing him off like it won’t work?”

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’re trying to protect yourself by pulling away before something even starts.”

“I’m not. It’s just … I don’t want you to worry about me if nothing comes of it. I don’t need Lucas in order to be happy. I can be happy with him or without him … or with someone else.”

Her dark eyebrows went up. “Someone else? Who?”

Why was I blushing? “In general. I was just hypothetically speaking.”

“Oh.” She nodded, took a deep breath then said, “So … Cade.”

“No, definitely not Cade!” I said over the top of her next sentence, which I couldn’t hear because I was too dramatic in my protest. “What?”

She tilted her head. “I said, back to Thanksgiving.”

“Oh. Yeah, Thanksgiving. What about it?” My cheeks were still red and I was trying to avoid looking at her. I swung my feet back to the floor and stacked the magazines that were spread out on the coffee table.

“What did you and Cade even talk about?” Isabel asked me.

“I don’t know. The rabbit. My brother. His family.” Well, that last one wasn’t exactly true. I’d tried to talk to him about his family and he promptly shut down. But we had talked about his family in our letters, which reminded me of a question I had for Isabel. “When you and Cade were together … did he talk a lot about his parents?”

“His parents? Not really.” Isabel slipped her feet out of her flip-flops and tucked them under her on the couch. “They’re rich and travel a lot, but that’s all I really remember. Why?”

“Was his stepdad nice to you?”

“Stepdad? That’s his real dad, right? He calls him Dad. He owns Jennings Insurance? Cade’s last name is Jennings.”

“You’re right. But … ” Had Cade not told anyone that his parents were divorced? I guessed if his real dad never came around and he never had to go back and forth between parents, he never would have to explain anything if he didn’t want to. He had mentioned he was pretty private in one of his letters.

“You know, now that I think about it, you’re right,” Isabel said, tilting her head. “He did say once it was his stepdad, but it was like a side note. So his stepdad must’ve adopted him? That’s why he goes by his last name?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I don’t think he knew his real dad very well. They divorced long before he moved here.”

Not that long. “Yeah … maybe.”

“I still can’t get over that the two of you got along for three hours!” Isabel exclaimed, glancing over at me. “I mean, when I was with him, you guys couldn’t be in the room together for more than a couple minutes without flinging insults.”