I swallowed my second bite of cake and glanced at Demi as she paused at my side, asking how I liked it.
“Can I box up what we don’t eat to go?” I asked her.
She smiled, amusement in her eyes, and she squeezed my shoulder. “Anything the bride wants.”
Molly, Abigail, and Diana were all staring at me when I turned back to the table.
My phone buzzed in my pocket as the server brought out the next flavor. I took it out to see the message as Demi began talking about the cake—Dark chocolate with strawberry compote, salted toasted walnuts, whipped vanilla cream in the center, and walnut buttercream on the outside.
God, that one tasted even better.
But the taste of the cake went amiss when I saw the text waiting for me.
Can we talk?
It was from Gavin.
My jaw tightened at seeing his name on the screen. I started to quickly put away the phone, but another text came through.
I’ve been by your place three times, he said.But I didn’t know if Tyler was home.
Three times… I pondered if that had been him at the door the other night when I’d nearly panicked.
I couldn’t talk to him. Not at that moment, and maybe not even that week. I had too much to think about, too much to figure out.
And it was all his fault.
“Chloe?” Abigail called out. “Everything okay?”
I stuffed my phone into my purse and shoved the bag under the table. “Yeah,” I said, grabbing my wine glass again. “Just Lana asking how the weekend is going,” I lied.
“Can she go one day without talking to you?” Molly asked. “It seems you two are joined at the hip. Tyler says you video chat morning and night.”
“Most of the time,” I said. “She’s my best friend.”
“I think I talk to my best friend once a month,” Molly said after spitting out her cake. “Too much work trying to keep up with everyone. Social media is helpful.” She glanced at me. “Tyler says you’re not on any socials. I thought he was lying to protect you from us, but I couldn’t find you either.”
The line of questioning made me uneasy. “I, uh, I don’t have it. Took myself off a few years ago,” I replied. “It was too much for my mental health,” I lied. “I would hyper-fixate on it and judge myself based on the attention it brought me.”
“Ugh. I know that feeling,” Molly said. “Even still, I couldn’t cut myself out of it completely. I like knowing what’s going on in the world. Oh! I need to get a picture of us before we get too full and bloated on cake,” she said as she scooted her chair toward me.
I gave in and sat up, smiling as she took the selfie.
“Perfect. And with this background, it’s even more beautiful,” she said, and I could see her pulling up another screen with the photo on it.
“Oh, can you not post it?” I asked her.
Molly frowned. “What? Why? I’m not tagging you.”
“I know, but can you just not post?” I asked again, my heart rate rising as she continued typing. “I genuinely don’t want my face on there.”
“Chloe, it’s just one photo,” she laughed. “Don’t be weird. Are you ashamed to be seen with us?”
“No, I just—“
“Half of our family doesn’t even know what you look like,” Abigail interjected. “They’re all curious.”
My hands began to sweat as they continued to talk around me, and Molly resumed writing her caption.
