I stared at her. “What?“ My mouth dropped open in shock.
Jack and Pauline. In college. And he’d hurt her.
“Pauly… I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for him.” She picked up her fork again. “It was years ago. I’m over it.”
“You’re clearly not over it.”
“I’m working on it.” She stabbed her salad with unnecessary force. “Can we not talk about this?”
“But—”
“Please, Claudette. I only told you because you kept asking and I owed you the truth. But I really don’t want to dissect it right now.”
My phone buzzed. Jack’s name lit up the screen.
I looked at it. Then at Pauline. Then declined the call.
Pauline raised an eyebrow. “You just ignored your brother.”
“He’s an asshole who hurt my best friend.”
“Claudette—”
“No. He doesn’t get to do that and just… get away with it.” I put my phone face-down on the table. “I’m choosing my friend over my brother right now. He can wait.”
Pauline’s eyes went soft. “You know most people would pick family.”
“You’re more important than his fragile ego.”
“That’s very sweet. Also completely impractical. He’s still your brother.”
“I don’t care. He hurt you.”
She smiled. Real this time. “Good to know you’re choosing your ride-or-die over your genetics.”
“Always.”
My phone buzzed again. Jack. I declined it again without even looking.
“He’s going to keep calling,” Pauline said.
“Then he’ll keep getting voicemail.” I took a bite of my sandwich. “He can leave a message explaining why he’s such a jerk. Maybe I’ll listen to it. Eventually.”
Pauline laughed despite herself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m loyal.”
We moved on to lighter topics. Her work disasters. My adjustment to married life. The fact that Michael apparently owned seven of the same white shirt and I couldn’t figure out why.
“Men are so weird,” she said.
We were walking through the main corridor, bags in hand, still laughing about Michael’s shirt situation when I saw her.
The woman from the carnival.
Hannah Pierce.
