Whether they’re willing to acknowledge it or not.
Fletcher studies me for a second, then looks at Evelyn. “I don’t lose. Thought you should know before you deal me in.”
Ooooh, shit.
That made Evelyn smile heryou’re so cutesmile.
Odette’s stifling a cackle.
Sheila bites her lip, her eyes getting worried. “Do you truly want to sit around with a bunch of naked old ladies?”
“He can’t play bridge. He’s bluffing,” I tell them.
Self-assured green eyes settle on me. “My ex’s grandmother played competitively.”
“Which ex?” Odette asks.
“First wife.”
“Haven’t you been divorced from her for fifteen years?”
“Never met a game I couldn’t remember how to dominate at.”
“Bridge is a partner game and there are five of us,” I say.
Yes. I’m backtracking. I’m backtracking hardcore because I forgot rule number one with Fletcher: he will win at all costs.
“You’re sitting out,” Evelyn tells me.
“Everyone has their line, and I am not watching the four of you play strip bridge. Especially considering the shape some of you are already in. I’m not taking you to the ER for a strip bridge injury.”
“Spoilsport,” Odette says with a sniff, knowing full well I’mtalking about her trying to shimmy out of her pants too fast on her knee.
Evelyn shakes her head. “I agree with Goldie. I’ll do a lot of things in my old age, but shaking my saggy titties at a man who looks like that isn’t one of them.”
Fletcher doesn’t say a word.
Probably knows there’s no right answer.
“Fine,” Odette says. “We’ll do this the old-fashioned way and play for blackmail material instead.”
“Dominoes,” Sheila says. “So we can all play.”
“Do you know how to play dominoes?” Evelyn asks Fletcher.
Something heavy flickers over his expression again. “My mom taught me.”
All three of my friends study him closer. They, too, seem to recognize that something’s a little off.
“Hope you do her proud,” Odette finally says.
“No other way,” he replies.
She leans on her cane while she heads to her china cabinet, where her games are stored in the lower drawers, while Evelyn and Sheila clear the table.
Fletcher turns to me again. “Gonna make it?”
“Of course.” I hold out a hand, a silent request for help up. He obliges, and soon I’m standing.
