Leaning back in my chair, I take a moment to observe the pair. They’re both leaning into each other talking. I’m not sure what they’re saying because they’re speaking in whispers. I take the opportunity to update Alec on this interesting chain of events with a text.
Hey, ran into your brother at a restaurant. I think he’s in love with my best friend.
I take a quick photo of the pair and send it off to him.
Not expecting an immediate response, I’m surprised when it chimes almost instantly.
Warn your friend. Adrian is a slut.
I’m a little shocked by his text when he sends a new one.
LOL
So, is Adrian a slut or was that just a brother’s way of kidding around? Only one way to find out.
Should I really tell her that?
No, he’s a good guy.
Phew.
When he sends me a gif of a guy wiping is brow in relief, I giggle.
“What’s so funny over there?” Kimmy asks with a smile.
“Nothing.”
“Are you texting Alec? Did you tell him his brother has joined us?”
“Alec?” Adrian frowns. “My brother? You’re texting my brother?” His frown has morphed into anger. “Don’t be bothering my brother, Mattie. He’s got enough on his plate without some weird fangirl bugging him.” He’s not done. “How did you get his number in the first place?” Oh boy, this guy…. “Are you stalking him? Jesus.” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
And that’s all I need to hear. I’m out of my seat with my purse in hand. Eyes on Kimmy, I say quickly, “I’m leaving.” Turning, I run smack dab into the server holding Adrian, the jerk’s, salad. It falls to the ground. “Sorry.” And I’m through the dining area and outside before the first tear falls. He’s right, of course. I’m bothering Alec.
Yes, I know he called me, but he was going through stuff. I’m his friend. When you go through stuff, you call a friend.
“Shit.” I sniffle as I speed walk down the street.
“Mattie, wait.” Glancing back, I see it’s Kimmy shouting from the entrance of the restaurant. I can’t look at her right now. She doesn’t like it when I cry, and anyway, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Or ever again. I turn my walk into a jog. She’ll never catch me in her tall, wedge sandals. Thank goodness for Chucks.
ChapterTwenty-One
Alec
Matilda won’t respondto me. Ever since she sent the photo of Adrian with her friend, there’s been nothing. It’s been six days, and even my calls go unanswered. I haven’t bothered to leave any voice messages. She can see missed calls.
I asked Adrian if anything out of the ordinary happened at the restaurant, but he assured me that nothing happened.
“Shit.” Maybe she was in an accident. I just watched a movie with Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant where they met on a cruise. They had plans to meet at the top of the Empire State Building on New Year’s Eve, but she never made it because she was hit by a car, paralyzed. Damn, it was sad. Hell, I wanted to tell Matilda that’s she’s got me hooked on old movies.A Touch of Minkwasn’t my jam, but not bad enough to turn me off from checking out others. She was right,Rear Windowwas good. Really good. So good I sat with Ben and watched it again. He dug it too.
Ben’s doing better—not great but better. He has no feeling in his lower extremities, but he does in his upper body. He can move his arms and hands some. The doctor believes, with physical therapy, he’ll be able to get full mobility back in his hands. The odds he’ll be able to walk, well, it’s not good. No one has admitted that to Ben yet. They’re still assessing. That’s the term all the docs use a lot. What we know for now is there will probably be more surgery and lots of work ahead for Ben.
He’s in good spirits, especially when Becky’s in the room. When she’s not, his smile drops along with the façade. That’s when I get to see how he really feels. He’s pissed at the asshole with the gun but mostly with himself. According to him, he handled it all wrong. I could tell him he did all the right things; he knows as well as I do the steps to take. I’m not convinced he did anything wrong, but the situation at hand makes a man question his choices.
At some future point, I’ll get the reports out for him to read. The whole thing was recorded. I watched it the day after the incident. My company commander let me view it. From that, I can say with 100 percent certainty, Ben followed procedure—something I’ve told him repeatedly, but he’s still not convinced. When he’s ready, he’ll watch the recording.
Staring down at my phone, I contemplate my next move. I’ve tried calling and texting. The letter I started a couple of weeks ago is still sitting on my table. Maybe finishing that is the way to go. Surely she’ll read a letter.
I’ve got a nagging suspicion, though, this has something to do with Adrian. It was the last time I heard from her, and Adrian, well, he can be a dick. He probably said something to her, except I’ve sent him numerous text messages asking him if anything out of the ordinary happened that day. He swears there was nothing, but he’d lie to protect himself. I’ve seen it firsthand. Sure, he was in his teens at the time, but for some reason, I think he’d do it now. Time to find out for sure. He can’t lie over the phone. I’ll hear it in his voice.
