Back during the short time Magnolia and I’d gotten close, I’d gained only a little personal insight from her. Though she hadn’t talked about him often, there’d been no question she didn’t have a good relationship with him, even back then.
“So that’s good news?” I asked.
She narrowed her eyes, morphing from happiness to contempt. “It’s great news to learn I’m not related to the most manipulative asshole on the planet.”
I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard Magnolia swear, which told me even more than the rest of her statement.
“How’d you find out? Did you meet with your mom?”
I’d tried not to wonder about that ever since I’d overheard her phone call. Tried not to give any mental energy to Magnolia’s life and what it must be like to have a mother who’d deserted her and a father who’d disowned her over a broken engagement. But for a few moments last Sunday in the barn, I’d been taken back to those weeks during junior year when Wednesday evenings marked time for me because I got to hang out with her.
Damn, I’d been crazy about her then.
“I did. She left about twenty minutes ago. I’m still absorbing all the bombs she dropped.” Her expression snapped to a frown. “You and I need to talk.”
“What do I have to do with anything?”
“I’ve been thinking we need to hash out the past if for no other reason than Presley and West’s wedding. But now…some of what I learned concerns you.”
What the hell? “What did your mother tell you?” I couldn’t imagine the woman I’d never even met knew a thing about me.
“Sit down, and I’ll explain.”
“Do I need a drink for this?” I asked.
“Likely,” she said dryly.
“Got any whiskey?”
Shaking her head, she said, “How about some bubbly?”
“Am I going to want to celebrate?”
“No, but this and white wine are all I have.”
“You really think dragging out the past will do any good?”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “You never heard my side of the story, Luke. I texted you and called you and tried to talk to you at school, but you shut me out in every way. There were things back then you didn’t know, and I just learned even more. So whether it will ‘do any good’ or not, you’re going to hear me out.”
I didn’t take kindly to being told what to do by anyone, but particularly by this specific person. I debated saying fuck it and walking out.
“Please,” she said in a less bossy, more emotional tone that shot me back to our nights outside her house.
Dammit.
I studied her, weighing my decision. I didn’t owe her a damn thing, but I did care about West’s wedding. I knew he was worried about the friction between Magnolia and me becoming a problem. And I could admit I was curious.
“Fine.” I sat, crossed one leg over the other, and waited for her to speak.
Magnolia shot up, went to the other room, and came back with the open champagne bottle. It wasn’t Dom or some other high-dollar, snooty brand but a more middle-of-the-road label. She filled her glass as close to the top as humanly possible without overflowing it.
“Want some?” she asked.
I was not a champagne guy. Didn’t even own champagne flutes. I had shit to get home to and didn’t want to be here more than the five or ten minutes it might take to hash things out. I shook my head. “Just say what you want to say.”
She brushed her hair behind her ear and met my gaze directly. “I never accused your mother of stealing my ring. I never believed she would do that.”
I scoffed. “Then how the hell did she get fired for it and blacklisted all over town?”
