I walked out real quick to introduce them, but Frank was already shaking her hand. “I’m a friend of Diana’s.”
She winked at me and said, “I’m a friend of Diana’s too. Nice to meet you.”
“I’ll call you later, Di,” he said as he walked to his car.
Gray and I stood in the driveway looking at each other, but as soon as the ignition cranked, she said, “Oh my gosh. Are you kidding me? Who isthat?”
“That,” I said, “is the one who got away.”
“Only now he’s come back.”
I nodded.
“So why are you not driving off into the sunset with him?”
I just shrugged—but when I really examined my reasons, I had to admit that it had more than a little something to do with her.
CHAPTER 12
gray: pamphlets
The orange juice always gets lost in our fridge. I don’t know why, but it’s never up front when I need it. I was wondering how that could be, if it was a phenomenon like socks being eaten by the dryer, when I heard a tap at the back door.Ugh, I thought. Whoever it was could clearly see me through the glass door, so it wasn’t like I could pretend I wasn’t home.
I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers it was Marcy, even though I knew she wouldn’t have knocked. Totally embarrassed that I was still in my bathrobe at, as the microwave informed me, 11:03 a.m., I turned slowly.
I felt my eyes widen in surprise at my visitor. It was a bit like looking in a mirror. Blond hair. Mole by her left eye. But that was where the similarities ended. I pinned on my most enthusiastic smile and opened the door. “Quinn! What on earth are you doing here?”
As she gave my attire a once-over, I leaned in to hug her. My sister. Formerly the most fun person I had ever known.
“Are you sick?” she asked, mock concern on her face.
“No.” I tried to smile through gritted teeth. “Why would you say that?”
“Just wondering why you’re still in your bathrobe at eleven in the morning.” She forced a laugh. “I was in the neighborhood volunteering for the breakfast shift at the soup kitchen and thought I’d pop in.”
I wanted to strangle her already. Instead of explaining myself, I said, “Oh, wow. That’s so nice.”
She looked around. “Where’s Wagner?”
I rolled my eyes. “Brooke’s family beach trip.”
She pursed her lips. “So you obviously haven’t thought any more about my advice from last time I saw you.”
I evaded her question. “So, what brings you here?” Quinn lived in Charleston. “I wish I’d known you were visiting. We could have made plans.”
But I was glad I hadn’t known she was visiting, and I didn’t want to make any plans. She brushed past me into the living room, setting herself pertly on the couch. I followed, rolling my eyes. She reached into her sensible black leather purse, and I remembered a time when my sister would have been carrying something neon, or maybe her glittery clutch because she was still out from the night before.
“I brought you some pamphlets,” she said.
“Okay…” I felt like I was walking into a trap.
“On God’s plan for marriage and how to save it from divorce.”
And there it was. “Quinn, look. I’ve told you like a hundred times. I can’t save my marriage. Greg didn’t say, ‘Hey, Gray, I cheated on you. I love you. Please forgive me.’?” She stared at me blankly as I continued, “He said, ‘I’ve found someone else. I’m leaving you.’ There’s no coming back from that. He’s engaged to another woman. My marriage is over.”
“Well, Pastor Elijah says—”
“I don’t give two shits what Pastor Elijah says,” I cut her off. “I’m tired of this same conversation. I’m getting divorced. You can accept that or not, but don’t come into my house and tell me how to live my life.”
