Not this month.
“Okay,” Bailey began. “I need a break. King has Rose for the night, so we’re all going out. He has ordered his merry band of misfits to babysit tonight.”
“Is it really called babysitting when it’s their children?” Claudia asked.
Bailey waved her hand in the air. “Whatever, what else would it be called?”
“Parenting?” Laurel scoffed.
I sipped my coffee while they discussed the merits of whether or not they were allowed to call it babysitting. I didn’t offer any opinion because, well, I didn’t have kids. I also didn’t have a husband.
I shouldn’t have come. My mother insisted I torture myself every week. She called it friendship. I called it hell. The topic always revolved around husbands and children.
I was the only one who didn’t have either.
But my mother was right; these women had become my friends before they were tied down. It wouldn’t be fair of me to cut them off simply because their lives reminded me of what I’d lost.
The conversation had moved on to something else when Skylar piped up with a story about Cameron’s shenanigans before we arrived.
“The poor man was just sitting there drinking his coffee when Cameron told him he didn’t like him.” Skylar’s voice held exasperation at her brother, but also unmistakable love.
“What did he do?” Bailey asked, a hint of caution in her question.
“As far as I know, he didn’t do anything. I asked Beth about it, but she said he just came in, ordered, and sat down. Hadn’t spoken to anyone until Cameron walked up to his table.”
“He’s just like King. So freaking suspicious of everyone,” Bailey said as she broke off a piece of donut for Rose.
“Did you talk to him?” Josie asked.
“After I made Cameron apologize, I introduced myself. His name was Jude.”
The reaction was instantaneous. I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d tried. My body locked up. I closed my eyes briefly, trying not to draw attention to the way my breathing had picked up.
I took a deep breath and set my cup down. I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs, trying to get the blood flowing again. When I looked up, Phoebe’s eyes were on mine.
She studied me with a knowing look. Her eyes bored into my soul, and she saw me. Saw my pain and my grief. Seven years’ worth of misery, all made known simply by the mention of a name.
“Was he cute?” Laurel asked.
Everyone looked her way, except Phoebe, who kept her eyes on me. I should have felt uncomfortable. I should have beenwriggling in my seat under her intense gaze. Instead, I felt something akin to comfort. Something familiar.
A shared trauma.
I blinked away the tears as Sugar asked, “How would Banks feel knowing you were asking about a mysterious stranger?”
“Who said he was mysterious?” Skylar chuckled.
“You know once it gets round town, he’ll either be a handsome, mysterious stranger or a creepy stalker.”
“Hey, let’s not talk about stalkers,” Henley said, scrunching her nose.
“Has anyone heard from Lacey?” I asked, trying to change the subject away from the stranger with the name I didn’t want to hear again.
“No,” Laurel said with a sigh. “She disappeared with Alexsandr, and Banks has been going crazy. He just found his brother, and then he disappeared.”
“Did it have something to do with the war?” Skylar asked quietly.
Just last month, my brother’s club in Nebraska was attacked. I’d almost lost him, and he didn’t even know who I was, other than his best friend’s widow.
