Mom whispers, “She learned about tagging and hashtags, too.”
I chuckle. “There’s no Culpepper family dirty laundry to expose.”
Mom laughs. “You’d be surprised what that woman can dig up. Now go. April needs you out there.”
However, when I return to the living room, April is holding her own, chatting easily with Aunt Louise about dog training and offering advice for how to minimize her papillon’s separation anxiety.
The afternoon continues with an Easter egg hunt, plus the dogs who have egg-shaped dog treats courtesy of my one and only—my mother special ordered them from April, who has an online storefront for dog treats. We let the kids win, but get our fair share of plastic eggs.
April and I sit on the back porch steps, trading jelly beans (she likes the red ones best, and I take her licorice). We play ping pong, listen to my uncle’s tales of his latest adventures abroad, then, April and Claudia play both referees and cheerleaders while the twins try to wrestle me for candy.
Around dusk, as the sky is a watercolor painting worthy of a museum, we’re settling into dessert when the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get it!” one of the twins says and returns a moment later with a familiar figure.
“Whitaker?” Ten years ago, his random appearance on my doorstep would come as no surprise, but my eyebrows knit together when I should be welcoming him inside.
My old friend grins, arms spread. “Can I come in?”
I step aside and try for a smile. Why is he here? Thankfully, he didn’t bring a social media influencer he wants to set me up with. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Happy Easter!”
“What are you doing here?”
“What about ‘Welcome, good buddy?’”
He shakes my dad’s hand, hugs my mom, and slaps me on the back.
“But seriously?” I ask, not annoyed, just surprised.
He chuckles. “I know we haven’t seen each other in forever?—”
“Dude, it’s been three days.”
However, Whitaker nods. “As you’re well aware, my folks live two streets over. Came home last minute. The party in Atlanta was canceled. Heard the Culpepper clan was having a party, thought I’d stop by.”
I roll my eyes. “Sometimes your humor is as dry as a desert.”
“Did you say dessert because it looks like I’m just in time?” He strides in and I notice that neither he nor my sister acknowledge each other. However, Claudia looks slightly pink while April has gone a bit pale.
Then again, she always seems uncomfortable when he’s around.
Whitaker makes himself comfortable, immediately launching into stories about our high school days. I find April’s hand under the table. It’s clammy and I can feel a tremor.
“Remember prom?” Whitaker laughs. “Man, that was a night.”
“Was it, though?” I mutter.
“Oh yeah! I had the prettiest date.” He winks at April, who looks like she wants to hide inside a giant plastic Easter egg.
“You stepped on my dress,” she says.
“Did I? I’m surprised you remember that since you were so busy talking about Clark.”
“And you were too busy talking about the girl you had a crush on,” April fires back.
My eyebrows pinch together as I look at April. “Me?” Then I turn to Finch. “What girl?”
