And in that instant I know who she is. She’s the wife of Garrett Beaufort, a now-prominent judge who, decades ago, dealt with misdemeanors. The kinds of cases my lowlife dad was always going to court for. They were good friends of the mayor, Sawyer’s dad. I only know her because of the community outreach program my dad forced Mara and me to attend to garner sympathy. Judge Beaufort was always there, along with his Stepford wife and greasy son.
Her eyes flicker between us, and the familiar urge to crumple into myself rises.
Sawyer sets our plates down before pulling me up to stand with him, and tucking me close. He towers over her, making her look small despite being a pit bull in disguise.
“Mrs. Beaufort,” he says again, this time in the same tone he uses on the youngest children at school. “Have you met my beautiful girlfriend, Brie Casey?”
Ears tip in our direction. My breath catches at the wordgirlfriend, and a torrent of emotions washes over me.Yes!I want to scream,I am his girlfriend. At the same time, panic rises. With that word comes a longevity, an intention to one day make things permanent. It’s too soon for that. Too unrealistic.
Pushing all of it aside, I focus on Mrs. Beaufort. She’s watching us with a sharp expression that, oddly, has me leaning into Sawyer. For the first time, I’m not alone in an interaction like this. She tracks my movement and her lips pucker like she’s just sucked on a lemon.
“Hi.” I wave, trying for some semblance of normalcy.
She straightens up, lifting her chin. “I am familiar with her . . .family.”
She speaks as if I’m not even here, and I wish I coulddissolve into the sidewalk, disappear from the shame that comes with that word,family. I know she really means that other f-word,father. I used to expect treatment like this, hide from it. But I can’t hide now, so I lean into Sawyer more, making myself smaller, hating myself for it.This isn’t how I want to be.
“Oh, but not Brie personally?” Sawyer says, innocently unfazed, though his arm squeezes me tightly in place, not letting me shrink away. “She’s one of the best teachers the elementary school’s ever had.”
She practically gawks. It’s the same kind of expression that had me counting the days until I could leave Blue Ridge my senior year, the kind I trained myself to never outwardly react to.
“I wasn’t aware she was ateacherto theyouth.” She’s basically a caricature of herself, but it doesn’t make her words sting any less.
“Substitute,” I say. It’s almost an apology, and I have no idea why I’m giving her the ammo, but I’m unable to keep my mouth shut.
Another shoulder squeeze.
“We’re hoping to make it permanent.” Sawyer smiles earnestly.
Don’t freak out. Mrs. Beaufort is the perfect reminder whypermanentis impossible for me where Blue Ridge is concerned. I have no happy memories from town because there are none to be had for me. As much as Sawyer belongs here, I do not.
Her scrutinizing eyes widen, then narrow. “I see. Well,” she turns to speak specifically to Sawyer, “give your father my best.”
Then, she makes to continue in the direction she was heading.
“Mrs. Beaufort.” Sawyer’s voice is authoritative.
I want to shoutlet her go!
She pauses mid-step and very deliberately whirls to face us again, her shapely eyebrows shooting up.
His voice is casual, but it carries an icy undercurrent. “My girlfriend said hi. I’m sure you didn’t mean to ignore her. Not with your impeccable manners.”
I hold my breath.Not with your impeccable manners?Now, something like exhilaration blooms in my chest. I wind my arm around Sawyer’s back, securing myself to his sturdy confidence, no longer shrinking but feeding off it and standing slightly taller.
I lift my hand and say, “Hi, Mrs. Beaufort.”
She looks uncertainly between me and Sawyer, who wears an expectant expression, then, looking down her nose notatme buttowardme, she says, “Hello.”
She turns to leave.
I look up at Sawyer and burst into laughter, muffled by the back of my hand.
“That wasamazing,” I whisper at the same time he says, “That was awful.”
It makes me laugh harder because he has no idea. I’ve dealt with so much worse than a pearl-clutching platinum blond with drawn-on eyebrows and lipstick on her teeth.
He gives me a bemused smile. “Are you broken?”
