The Truth About Forever(68)

I stepped inside, then walked over to his bureau, leaning in to look at the girl in the picture. I knew I was probably being nosy, but I couldn't help myself. "So, is this Becky?"

He turned around, glancing over at me. "No. Becky's skinny, angular. That's my mom."

Wish was beautiful. That's what I thought first. And in this picture, young, maybe her late teens or early twenties. I immediately recognized Bert's round face in her features, and Delia's dark curly hair and wide smile. But more than anything, she reminded me of Wes. Maybe it was the way she was not looking at the camera but instead just beyond it, half-smiling, nothing posed or forced about her. She was sitting on the edge of a fountain, her hands resting easily in her lap. You could see water glittering behind her.

"She looks like you," I said.

He came up behind me, a box in his hand, and then we were both framed in the mirror, peering in. "You think?"

"Yeah," I said. "I do."

Bert came out of his room, walking quickly, a lint roller in one hand. "I'd better go," he said. "I want to be there right when the doors open."

"You're taking the roller?" Wes asked him.

"There's always the possibility of car lint," Bert told him, sticking it in his front pocket. "So I look okay?"

"You look great," I told him, and he smiled at me, genuinely pleased.

"I'm staying at Richard's tonight, so we can recap," Bert said, pulling the door open. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Wes nodded. "Have fun."

Bert disappeared down the hallway, and seconds later I heard the front door slam. Wes grabbed his keys and wallet off the bureau, shifting the box he was carrying to his other arm, and we started toward the living room, me taking one last look at Wish before he shut the door behind us.

"I should go, too, I guess," I said, as we came into the living room. Again, I was struck by how cozy it was, unlike my house, which, with its high ceilings and huge rooms, always seemed to feel empty.

"Don't tell me," he said. "You're going to the Armageddon social, too?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Just a hunch."

I made a face. "No, I'll actually be studying. Doing laundry. I don't know, I might get really out of hand and iron some clothes. With starch."

"Uh-oh," he said. "Now you're talking crazy."

He pulled the door open and I stepped outside, stopping on the stairs as he locked it. "Okay, fine, Mr. Excitement. What's your plan?"

"Well," he said, holding up the box in his hand, "I have to drop by this party in Lakeview and give a friend of mine these car parts I found at the salvage yard."

"A party and car parts?" I said. "Don't hurt yourself, now."

"I'll try not to."

I smiled at him, digging my own keys out of my pocket.

"You want to ride along?"

I was sort of surprised that he asked me. And even more surprised how quickly I answered, no hesitation, as if this had been what I'd been planning to do all along. "Sure."



The party was big and in full swing by the time we pulled up twenty minutes later. As we walked up to the front door, dodging people grouped along the driveway and front lawn, I was, as always, aware of the fact that we were being stared at. Or that Wes was. He hardly seemed to notice, but I wondered how he'd ever gotten used to it.

Once inside, I'd barely crossed the threshold when someone grabbed my arm. Someone in a denim miniskirt, cowboy boots, and a hot pink bustier. One guess.

"Oh, my God," Kristy hissed in my ear, yanking me sideways to the bottom of the stairs. "I knew it! What are you doing? Macy, you'd better start talking. Now."

Wes had stopped in the middle of the foyer and was looking around for me. When he finally spotted me and saw I was with Kristy, he mouthed he'd be right back, then disappeared down the hallway past a clump of cheerleaders, who watched him go with wistful expressions. Not that I could focus on this, as Kristy was about to break my arm.

"Will you stop?" I asked her, wrenching myself out of her grip. "I think you sprained something."

"I can't believe," she said indignantly, not even hearing this, "that you and Wes are out on a date and you didn't even tell me. What does this say about our friendship? Where is the trust, Macy?"

I felt someone bump my other side and looked over to see Monica, a bottled water in one hand, looking out at the crowd in the living room with a bored expression.

"Did you see who Macy is with?" Kristy said to her.

"Mmm-hmm," Monica said.

"I am not with him," I said, rubbing my elbow. "He needed to drop something off, I was over there helping Bert get ready for the Armageddon social, and he just—"

"Oh, shit!" Kristy put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. "I forgot about the social. God, please tell me he didn't wear that polka-dot shirt."

"He didn't," I told her, and she visibly relaxed. "Stripes."

"Tie?"

I nodded. "The blue one."

"Good." She took a sip of the beer she was holding, then pointed a finger at me. "Now, let's get back to you and Wes. Do you swear there's nothing going on?"