"Tasting cake."
"Yes, thank you. But what else is it? Does it have a special meaning? Is this some new Olive Township tradition?"
Hugo eyes me warily, making it clear he doesn't want to say what he's about to say. He forges ahead. "Weddingcake tasting."
Ah. He left out a word. Because...why?
"Why didn't you just say that?" I whistle for Slim Jim, and a few seconds later he comes bounding from the back of the house.
"Because you make the worst face when Daisy's name comes up. Like you smelled something disgusting, but also like your dog died."
I shake my head at him in awhat the fuckway. He lifts his hands, proclaiming his innocence. "Don't shoot the messenger. Get a mirror. You'll see."
I open up the passenger door for Slim Jim, making a motion with my finger. He hops up and I close the door.
I turn back around to saygoodbyeandthank youto my best friend, but the apprehension in his eyes stops me. "Out with it, Hugo."
Hugo sighs, hands tucking into his pockets. It's obvious he's taking great care to keep his face devoid of emotion. "Are yousure you're making the right decision not telling Daisy? If she finds out you were here and didn't call her, she's?—"
"Doesn't matter, because I'll already be gone." Just because I ran into her last night doesn't mean anything. It was a chance encounter, and nothing more. I'll be more careful from now on. Olive Township might be a small town, but it's notthatsmall.
"Thanks for thinking about the rest of us. We have to live with her."
"She's about as ferocious as a doe." At least, that's the impression I'm getting. The old Daisy St. James has been smothered.
Hugo snorts. "Given the right motivation, even cool tempered, sweet as honey Daisy will grow claws. Especially"—he slams a stiff pointer finger to my chest—"where it concerns you."
I scoff, batting away his finger. "You're above appealing to my ego, De la Vega."
"You've never believed in how much Daisy cared about you. Always wrote it off, called it something else."
I'm getting tired of this conversation. Of insisting Daisy doesn't care about me. Mostly because ithurts.
"Hugo, has Daisy ever asked about me?"
He knows I have him there. From his own mouth he once told me she stopped years ago.
But the way he's eyeing me now, almost like he pities me, is not what I was expecting from him. It gives me the feeling of being intruded upon, and I turn away slightly, angling my body toward that fucking house that brought me back here.
Stupid, dilapidated house. Except for the front yard. Quite the conundrum.
"Not in a long time," Hugo admits.
I double down on my scoff, this time adding a derisive sound in my throat. "No matter what you think is true from before, let me remind you that Daisy is engaged?—"
"—to a wet paper towel."
I smirk. "Exactly. And she does not give two shits about little old me."
"Sure, yeah." Hugo claps my back and walks backward to his car. "If that were true, there'd be no reason to keep your presence a secret."
I open my mouth to argue, but I have nothing to say. He's wrong. I don't know how, but he is. I just need a few more minutes to figure it out.
Hugo smiles smugly, wearing his conversational win like a beauty queen's sash. "Forgot to mention, trash pick-up day is Thursday, and you can't keep the empty can on the curb longer than twenty-four hours or the HOA will fine you."
"Ask me if I care." I used to fight real bad guys, and now an HOA is going to tell me what I can do with my trash can? No fucking way.
He ignores me, driving off with a parting wave, and in lieu of returning his wave I offer a friendly middle finger.
