What did Erin want out of this dinner? I understood that we needed to hammerout some details, but I’d been hoping we could do it using my preferred method: texting. And that’s only because I didn’t think my other favorite way to deal with problems—ignoring them until they went away—would work here.
Needing something to do with my restless energy, I stood and walked over to the mantle, studying the pictures that lined the surface. Some were older: Erin and Ben’s wedding, a couple of Hannah’s baby pictures—which looked eerily similar to mine. As I moved along the mantle, Hannah got older. Kindergarten graduation, a middle school dance, braces flashing as she smiled wide for the camera. The last couple were modern pictures of her at debate club meets or FLA conferences. She was so grown up, and I’d missed so much of it.
“Ryder.”
Her voice sent me back almost twenty years. Every hair on my body stood on end. I slowly turned to face her. She looked tired, sure, but it seemed like she hadn’t aged a day. Blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. She wore a hint of makeup, but she didn’t need it. Her natural beauty shone through.
“Erin.” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat to try again. “Hi.”
We faced each other in uncomfortable silence until Ben broke it yet again, rushing in from the kitchen with a glass in his hand. “Ryder, I could marry you. This scotch is amazing.”
As quickly as he appeared, he was gone. A smile tugged at my lips as Erin rolled her eyes. “How did you know his favorite scotch?” she asked.
I shrugged, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “All luck. It didn’t feel right showing up empty-handed.”
“That’s your mom coming out in you.”
“Yeah, it is.” Eventually, we’d have to get the uncomfortable stuff out of the way. I, for one, wanted to get it over with. “Erin, what?—”
She stopped me with a wave of her hand. “After dinner, please. You still eat like a linebacker?”
“Oh, come on,” I laughed. “I never ate that much.”
She raised a brow. “Don’t make me bring up prom again.”
My face heated. Ihadeaten too much that night, but I’d also been drunk, which culminated in me throwing up on the ride home. Before I could come up with a proper retort, Ben reappeared in the doorway with flushed cheeks.
“You’re already on your second cup?” Erin asked, noting the refilled glass in his hand. “You opened the bottle less than ten minutes ago.”
“Mm, yes,” Ben said innocently. “My ‘second’ cup.”
Erin laughed and patted him on the chest. “All right, drunky, go set the table.” Erin moved to follow Ben into the kitchen, motioning for me to join them.
“Can I do anything?” I felt awkward standing in the corner of the room, not knowing my place.
Erin shook her head. “We’ve got it. You can go sit down if you want. Pick any seat.”
I wandered in the direction she indicated, finding a dining room worthy of a magazine. I pulled a chair out at the heavy oak table, sighing as I sat down. Something felt off. I didn’t know what, but it had my defenses up.
Erin and Ben bustled about, setting the table with a platter of roasted chicken and side dishes. Once we all had food and drinks in front of us, they took the seats directly across from me.
“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Ben asked again, holding up the bottle of scotch.
“Thank you, but I have to work tonight.”
Erin passed me one of the platters and we started dishing out the food. “You found a job? So quickly?”
“Bartending at Liz’s.”
When no one replied, I looked up to see Erin regarding me in silence, brow raised. “Seriously?”
Ben cleared his throat. “Erin…”
Not understanding their reactions, I ventured, “It’s just a job, but it’s one that I’m good at—and that I could get on short notice.”
“Something about that owner just seems off, that’s all.”
I frowned. I knew that wasn’t the whole story, but I wasn’t willing to press. The situation was tense enough already.
