“Nice of you to finally show up,” I grunt.
“Nice to see you’ve finally moved on,” she snarks, tilting her head at the sight of mine and Gannett’s joined hands. Then she laughs, but it carries no mirth. “That’sgot to be awkward though.”
“Mom, why are you causing a scene?” Taryn mutters. Sensing Taryn’s hackles getting raised, Morgan dashes over to try to diffuse the situation. Better her than me. With my emotions on a roller-coaster today, the end result of me confronting Trista would probably end up causing an evenbiggerscene.
“Am I, though?” Trista asks, batting her long, false lashes, feigning innocence.
“You are,” Evan agrees, to my utter shock. “There some sort of issue with my brother and your ex being together?”
“Oh, gosh no.” Trista shakes her head. “It’s just—Gannett.Really?”
The way she just sneered when she got to his name—the very tone she took, insinuating that I could somehow do better than Gannett—I start to simmer with rage. There is no one better for me than Gannett. He loves me completely and unapologetically. Trista—well, to think she even has the capacity to love, that’s a fuckin’ joke. I’m about to rise out of my chair and give her a piece of my mind, but Taryn stops me with his hand out.
“Mom, I think you should probably go,” Taryn snaps. “In fact, I’m not really sure why you even bothered to come. The way you just spoke to the man who has been here for me more than you have? That's unacceptable. Do you evencarethat since Dad has been with Gannett he has been the happiest I haveeverseen him? Furthermore, in the past few months, Gannett has had my back more times than I can count. So, you know what? I want you to leave.”
“You–you can’t kick me out!” Trista protests.
“I can though. I own the place,remember?” Taryn snarls. “Come back when you learn how to be a nicer person.”
Trista huffs, probably leaving an indent in the hardwood floor with the fuckin’ spike on her high heel.
Sarah snorts, her plate of food still in hand from where she’s been witnessing this whole commotion from over at the buffet. “Wow. Real mature, Trista. My girls aresixand don’t throw a tantrum quite like you do, so bravo. You know, from what I can tell, I’d say Gordy has done real well for himself by being with Gannett,” she taunts, crinkling her nose. “This isn’t high school anymore; stop causing drama. This is a momentous occasion for your son. Act like an adult, and quit making things all about yourself, for once.”
In a furious tizzy, Trista spins on those spikes and marches out of the pub.
Steve pulls out the empty chair to my left, and Sarah sits in it. “Well then,” she hums at me, suppressing a giggle. “She’s in rare form today, huh? You, my friend, deserve some sort of award for having to deal with her for as long as you did.”
I nod, then my brows pinch. “Are we—did we just—”
“Agree on something?” she finishes my thought. “Yes, Gordy. We most certainly did. Listen, I probably acted a little cold with you back on Easter…”
“Probably?” Gannett’s eyebrows shoot up. “And how about at Terra’s t-ball game?”
She rolls her eyes at him. “Yes, I will admit there was some animosity there too. That was wrong of me. My hurt feelings were misplaced, and I—I, well I think you and Gannett make a good team together. The way our girls regard you, well, it was unexpected, and I didn’t know how to process that at the time. I’m sorry.”
Steve winks at Gannett.
“Apology accepted,” I tell Sarah. “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you,” she replies. “For everything you’ve done with Terra and Tatiana. They adore you, Gordy. And I would love to extend an open invite to any of our family game nights.”
“I appreciate that.”
“That’s cute,” Evan says, snickering. “You have family game nights? Does Gan still cry like a little bitch when he gets his ass handed to him in Uno?”
“Evan!” Vickie chastises. “Don’t pick on your brother!”
Steve chuckles, picking imaginary lint off his sweater vest. “Actually, yes, there were many tears. Never seen a man sob quite so much when I hit him with the ol’ Draw Four.”
“Steven!” Gannett cries out. “That was only for the people at that table to know about!”
“Evan,” I butt in, “remind me again. Was it notyouwho losthimselfduring a game of hide-and-seek back at Explorer Camp? Wasn’t it you who was cry—”
“No! No, it was not!” Evan balks defensively. “Gordy! I swear to—”
Brooks cackles, cutting him off. “Let him tell the story, I want to hear about what happened to little, lost Evan. Clearly, you made it out alive.”
“I wasn’t crying aboutthat; I got stung by a bee!”
