“It’s mine,” I tell him. “Afterglow’s finally all mine. I can do whatever I want with it.”
“That’s amazing. Congratulations, sweetheart.”
“Thank you!”
“That’s fantastic,” Ada says, and I allow myself to tumble out of Davis’s embrace and into hers.
“Thank you!” I’m giddy with joy and relief. “It almost makes me feel bad for telling Caroline that Tristan is a cheating bastard.”
“What?” Ada blanches.
“Not you! I’d never tell her about you. But I called her this morning and said that I’d found out Tristan cheated before they were married. I thought she should have all the information.”
“What did she say?” Ada asks.
“She thanked me for telling her and hung up.” I shrug. “It’s her business what she does now, but all I could think about was that I’d want to know if it was me.”
Ada lets out a breath. “Shit. I wonder what the fuck’s going to happen now?”
“That’s Tristan’s problem. He did this to himself. I thought about what you said in the car on Friday, about how people always blame the other woman. But he’s the one who cheated. He can deal with the consequences.”
Davis links his fingers through mine and raises our joined hands to press a kiss against the back of my hand.
“I like this side of you,” he murmurs. “All feisty.”
Gratitude rushes through me, and I smile at him. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you at my back, though.”
He nods, effortlessly handsome.
“Hey, Cee,” Ada nudges me with her hip. “Betty and Gavin have to get home to JR after the kapa haka closing thing, but Jake’s making a dinner reservation. You guys want in?”
I look down at my best friend, her dark eyes wide like a Disney princess. The air of sadness that’s been trailing behind her since she came back to New Zealand seems to have vanished. I don’t know what our futures look like—Jake and Davis, the bar, our living situations—but I know we’ll get through them. Sometimes together, sometimes separately, as the music of our lives weaves us tighter and looser through different seasons. Parts will probably move faster than we expect, some slower. Marriage.Kids, maybe. Pets, politics, and the price of groceries. All the little notes that form a friendship like ours, fitting into each other’s symphonies where we can, while still crafting our own beautiful songs.
But after all we’ve done, everywhere we’ve been, the hardships of the last year, I know we’re in it for each other. We just have to make it through the rest of this goddamn reunion.
“We’re in. Come on.” I hook my arm through Ada’s and grab Betty’s hand, as well. “Let’s get another drink. Ruining lives is thirsty work.”
32
Ada
You know those old cowboy movies where everyone’s side-eyeing each other in the saloon, waiting for the first pistol to be drawn? That’s what this event feels like. Only, instead of a dusty bar, I’m in a beautiful garden, surrounded by rose bushes and fountains, adding an uncanny air to the tension, which is so thick you could carve it with a knife.
Cece, Davis, Betty, Gavin, Jake, and I are sitting on lawn chairs with a bottle of prosecco, watching the sun begin its descent. We should be celebrating, or at least relaxing, but all around us are groups of extremely nervous people.
Some of it is fallout from Cece’s outburst; some is Rhys-related, what with Betty here. But I’d say the majority is that everyone knows the cops have contacted Thrasher and his boys, and since none of them are in custody, the threat of arrest is just… hovering.
Shannon Strom is less than twelve feet away, watching my every move. I’m not scared, not with Jake and Davis so close, but it’s like trying to relax beside a loose tarantula.
“You okay, baby?” Jake asks for the thousandth time. “We can go if you want?”
I shake my head. Every atom in my body is telling me to wait. Last night the Thompson crew was coked up, and violence seemed imminent. It’s harder to be scared at a garden party, and after Cece’s little performance, I feel entitled to see this through. Stay for the fireworks, if they’re coming.
“Great song by the way,” Betty says, raising her glass to me.
“Thanks. I’m sure Rhys would have preferred Motörhead, but I can’t really do that on the flute.”
That wins me a round of laughter. I smile, my every nerve humming. Today was my first performance in more than a year, and I’d forgotten the adrenaline high. I’m sure I’ll crash in an hour or so, but right now I’m hopped up like a frog.
