“You know what I mean.”
I do, mostly. But it’s the type of comment that preys on my insecurities.
With an apologetic smile, Jordyn loops a commiserating arm through mine and leads us to the living room. Lexie greets me with a wave from behind the bar. Ultrastylish in vintage Chanel, she looks as if she’s just stepped off the cover ofVoguerather than just come from the offices of her PR firm. Whereas Jord, at five feet two inches is petite and compact, athletic from years of field hockey, Lexie’s tall like me but willowy thin. I might resent my friends for their slim, perfect bodies if they weren’t the most special people in my life.
“From your message, I thought you could use this,” Lexie says, approaching with a glass of wine extended. “Problem at work?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what’s got you all hot and bothered?” Jordyn probes, sweeping architectural blueprints off the sofa to make room.
Reflecting back on what—or more aptly who—has gotten me hot and bothered, I tip the stemless goblet to my lips and down half the cabernet in unladylike gulps. Drinking isn’t a good idea. But I’m entitled to at least one vice tonight.
“You are never going to believe who was just in my office.” I rest the glass on the coffee table and collapse against the cream and tan pillows.
My friends sit like angled bookends beside me, their expressions brimming with curiosity and apprehension. Sharing still isn’t easy for me, but I do it, clasping their hands, in need of an anchor just to say his name. “Micah Peters.”
“Ho-ly shit!” Jordyn utters her favorite expression while Lexie, a gentler soul, squeezes my fingers.
“Oh, Dee, that must have been awful.”
“My worst nightmare.”
“What the hell did he want?” Jordyn glowers after rebounding from the shock.
“For me to represent Victor’s foster son.”
“What!” they exclaim in unison.
“I know, right? I didn’t ask for details, but the gist of it is that this boy’s biological grandparents are fighting Victor and his wife for custody. And get this,” I say and sputter out a hysterical laugh. “Mick handed over $4,000—in cash—to pay my retainer. I mean, who does that?”
“Evidently, gazillionaire ex–basketball players,” Jordyn supplies.
“It could be that Mick didn’t want the transaction to be traced back to him,” Lexie reasons. “He’s a celebrity and paying for a child custody lawyer might get him unwanted press attention.”
I hadn’t thought of that. But it fits, given what little I know about what happened at the community center.
“Wait…” Jordyn holds up her hand. “Why was Mick there instead of Victor?”
“I asked the same thing,” I say, picking up my wine again. “Apparently, Victor doesn’t think I’m trustworthy enough to represent his foster son.”
“Is that what Mick said?” Jordyn spits out.
“Almost verbatim. He accused me of hurting the people Victor loved.” Sorrow and shame wash over me. I never meant to hurt Victor’s parents or his little sisters—didn’t place enough value on myself then to even think I could.
Rita Torres—my foster mother, affectionately known as Mama T—wouldn’t have been consoled by the number of times I picked up the phone throughout the years, dying to hear her melodic voice. Or by knowing she was the only person I had longed to go to and cry in her arms when my world was blown apart. But I couldn’t tell her.
Victor was Mama T’s son, flesh and blood, and Mick, whom she practically raised, was as good as. Telling her and Papa T what really happened would have driven a wedge into their close-knit family. I couldn’t put them in the position of dividing their loyalties. It seemed better to just be gone.
“I hope you let the truth hit Mick right between the eyes,” Jordyn says, balling her small fist.
When I fail to respond, she blows out a frustrated breath that flutters the auburn bangs of her short pixie haircut. “I don’t get why you’re allowing Mick and Victor to cast themselves as the injured parties and you as the heartless bitch.”
It’s wrong to hold out on my dearest friends, but I still haven’t confided the worst part. Some things are just too painful…too soul-wrenching to share with anyone. “I’d rather they think I’m heartless than for Mick to know he once had the power to nearly destroy me.”
I can tell that answer doesn’t sit well with Jordyn, who has never backed away from a fight, but thankfully, she doesn’t pursue it.
“What I don’t get,” Lexie says, “is what this has to do with Mick.”
