“How was your lunch with Ty on Sunday?”
Will and Ben turn questioning looks my way, so I fill them in on what’s happened with my brother.
“Anyway, his mother has apparently met her ‘soulmate’ in Thailand and is now heading off to Europe for some ‘much-needed down time’. Down from what, I’m not sure since the woman hasn’t worked a day in her life. So it looks like Ty will be my responsibility for a while.”
“Poor kid,” Greer says with a sigh. “But maybe it’s a good thing. She’s not exactly mother of the year. And if anyone can get him under control, it’s you.”
“You should bring him round to dinner on Sunday night,” Will adds. “Since you and Ben have outgrown your wild ways, Harry could do with a project.”
We all laugh, although Ben’s smile looks forced. I’m aware he felt let down by Harry more than once when we were growing up, and there’s still some tension there.
“Hey Gee, how are you getting on with those bitches at work? Things any better?” Ben asks, changing the subject. He may be a bit of a wanderer without the required ‘successful career’ of all the other Carter siblings, but Benedict has the most emotional intelligence of anyone I’ve ever met. I guess it has something to do with his struggles at school. I know he has some sort of dyslexia, which wasn’t picked up until quite late. Maybe he’s had to learn to read people in a way he can’t always read words.
“What’s this? And how does Ben know about something I don’t?” Will jumps in. Ever the protective oldest brother.
“Calm your farm. Gee and I had lunch on Thursday last week. While you were busy being a high-flying corporate lawyer.” Ben pats Will on the arm.
“It’s nothing. Just a couple of women at the office think channelling Regina and Gretchen is a good way to get ahead.” Greer waves a hand and tries to look unconcerned, but I’m not buying it.
“Regina and Gretchen?” I have no idea who they are.
“FromMean Girls. They were the mean ones,” Ben supplies, giving me some context. “How were they at drinks on Friday night?” he asks Greer. And an alarm bell goes off in my head.
“Friday night?” I ask under my breath, hoping nobody else will hear. It’s unfortunate Ben has ears like a fox.
“Some of the people from the office took Greer out as a bit of a welcome thing. Did they turn up?”
Greer glances at me before answering him. “Oh yeah. They wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see and be seen. They were there.”
Fucking hell. Of course they were there when I caused my stupid, jealous scene. Which they undoubtedly saw. My bad behaviour is the gift that keeps on giving. I wish I could haul off and kick my own arse. But I can’t say anything in front of Ben and Will because that would lead to explanations, which would lead them to information they don’t need to have.
“And?” Ben probes.
Greer shifts in her seat and starts to fold and refold the paper napkin in front of her.
“Put it this way. We’re never going to be holding each other’s hair out of the way while we puke. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Ben and I exchange a look that calls bullshit.
“Do you need me to come in and sort them out?” Will is bristling.
“Holy hell, no! I don’t need anyone to come in andsort them out. It’s nothing. They’ll settle down when they realise I don’t give a flying fat rat’s arse what they think of me.” Greer gives Ben a glare, obviously irritated he’s raised the issue in front of Will. And maybe me.
I won’t go wading in there to sort anyone out, but there must be something I can do to help.
After dinner, we all go our separate ways, but when I get home, I can’t settle. I pace the tiny, soulless apartment, going over and over what Greer said. And the thought that I made things worse for her, in an already problematic situation grates at my conscience. I remember Will telling me she was bullied while we were at school. Back then, I had enough of my own problems and didn’t pay much attention to the details. I know I won’t get any sleep until I get to the bottom of it, so I grab my phone and shoot off a text to Greer.
Me: Hey—I wanted to check in about the mean girl situation.
Greer: No need for you to worry. I’ve got it covered.
Her curt reply sends the message I’m not yet out of the doghouse. But there are things I need to say. I’m about to text back when it occurs to me it’s probably not a good idea to have a written record. You never know who might come across it by accident. She picks up on the first ring.
“I was worried I might’ve made things worse for you, with what happened on Friday night.”
I hear rustling. Christ. She’s in bed. Now I’m thinking about her big, comfortable bed. Like fuck. I’m thinking about her lush, warm curves. Naked curves.
She sighs, and even through the phone, I can feel her annoyance with me giving way.
