Gretchen stuck a decorative pillow under her arm and fidgeted with its fringe. “I ditched him for another guy on Saturday night.”
Lucy cocked her head at Gretchen and shook it slowly. “Gretchen, how could you? After all this time you’ve waited for him to come back.”
“Waited? I haven’t waited for shit,” Gretchen said. “I’d made my peace with the fact that I’d never see Greg again. But then he comes waltzing back into my life in true Greg fashion and expects things to go back to the way they were. Do you think I want to put myself through that again?”
I slanted my lips at her. “But you should have discussed your feelings with him like a mature adult.”
“You’re one to talk, Olivia.”
My jaw dropped, my eyes darting over her. She had a point, but this wasn’t the time to bring up my issues. Lucy still had no idea about anything concerning David.
“What does that mean?” Lucy asked.
“Nothing,” Gretchen said with a sigh. “I’m just upset. You’re right, Liv. I could have handled it better.”
Relieved to skip over the subject, I tried to help Gretchen out. “She hadn’t even slept with Greg,” I told Lucy. “That’s how hurt she still is.”
“You didn’t?” Lucy asked her.
“No. And I didn’t hook up with the Saturday night guy either.” Gretchen pulled at the pillow’s fabric. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“So just tell Greg that,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I left him,” she said. “I’ve been avoiding him ever since, and I’m sure he’s pissed. I don’t even know if I want to work things out. What if he leaves again?”
If I’d had more faith in Greg, or love for that matter, I would have told Gretchen not to be afraid. Even though my marriage had been happy, the disappointment of my parents’ divorce was always fresh in my mind. There was no guarantee that people wouldn’t suddenly change their minds. And to tell Gretchen that Greg wouldn’t leave again was a reassurance I couldn’t give her. I grabbed her hand instead. She tilted her head at me but didn’t say anything.
“If you love him, then you have to try,” Lucy said, her voice an octave above a whisper. “Don’t give up because of fear.”
Gretchen rubbed her temples. “Liv, I don’t think I can go to the ball this weekend.”
“Ball?” I asked, frowning. “What ball?”
“Um . . . does the masquerade ball ring any bells?” Gretchen asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “You hounded us all to buy tickets back in June.”
“Your animal shelter charity event,” Lucy said. “Didn’t you help plan it?”
Right . . . the masquerade ball. I’d completely forgotten. Then again, most of the summer, I’d been a complete zombie. Did that mean I no longer was? Since Lucy’s wedding, life had been creeping back in, pushing out my anger, grief, and regret. And apparently, I was going to a ball.
“I forgot that was this weekend,” I said. “I have to go, but it’s fine if you guys want to skip it. You already paid, so the shelter will get the money.”
“Well, we’re definitely going,” Lucy said. “And Dani will be in town. You could give her the tickets.”
My ears perked at the mention of her sister’s name. Was she here to see David?
“They’re all hers,” Gretchen said.
But what would Dani do with the extra one? I was afraid to ask.
And anyway, Lucy was already moving on to the one subject she really wanted to discuss. “So, can we talk about my Parisian honeymoon now?” she asked excitedly.
* * *
Droplets of turquoise water, the smell of chlorine, skin slick against skin, hovering above the rest of the world, wandering fingers, curious tongues, fistfuls of hair . . .
Heat pooled inside of me, turning me warm and tender. David had cradled me on his lap and held me close. He’d not only listened but had heard me, and when he watched me, it was with attentive eyes. I tried to forget the feeling of his lips claiming mine or of him swelling inside of me.
I jumped when the front door slammed. On our living room couch, I picked up the nearest magazine, hiding my flushed face behind it.
