“Yeah, well. They’re only going to get worse. Miranda and Julie already asked why I skipped the last party.”
“Did you tell them you were with me?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re fine. If they ask about it, I’ll tell them the same thing.”
She nods, slides her gaze to meet mine. After a beat, she says, “Eva kind of defended me.”
I cock an eyebrow, more than a little curious.
“When Carter was being a jerk, saying gross things. Eva called him out for it right on the spot. He ended up following her instead and forgetting all about me.”
I swipe my palm across the side of my jaw, my knee starting to bounce.
“Weird, right?”
“Not really.”
Whitney sits up and shifts to face me. “You don’t think it’s weird she defended me? After everything we’ve said and done to each other?”
“No. I don’t.” I slide my lower lip between my teeth, glancing out the window again. Hoping she’s home. Alone. “Eva isn’t petty like that.”
“Now, who’s defending who?” Whitney chides. “I still don’t like her.”
My lips twitch. “And I’m sure she still doesn’t care.”
She punches my shoulder, and I feign a wince. “You could give Maria a run for her money.”
She laughs. “Your housekeeper? Isn’t she like, eighty?”
“Sixty-seven, and don’t underestimate her. That woman is tough as nails. She could whoop my ass on a day her arthritis is flaring.”
Snickering again, she shakes her head and wipes the remaining wetness from her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Taking my mind off ... everything. You’re good at that.” She pulls her ponytail over her shoulder. “You’re taking me to the party this Friday, right?”
“No.”
“What? Why not? You took me last time.”
“That was a one-time deal, Whit,” I mutter, checking my watch. “You know that.”
“It’s going to be at Marco’s place.”
My eyes snap over to see a knowing gleam sparking behind hers.
“Now, do you want to go?” She looks away before quietly adding, “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave poor, helpless Eva all on her lonesome at Marco’s.”
My expression hardens, and she shifts in her seat. There are many words I’d associate with Eva, butpoororhelplessaren’t included.
“What are you doing, Whitney?”
“What do you mean?” She smiles sweetly. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You know what we are. What this is.”
