“Pittaya’s helping with the sound system,” she said, correctly interpreting my covert surveying of the crowd.
At last Arden appeared, dressed in the red gown she’d tried on at the mall. Her movements lacked their usual bounce, but I attributed that to the stiletto heels. A bold choice considering the height differential with her date.
Lydia peered over Arden’s shoulder as they hugged. “Where’s Miles?”
Arden’s response was swallowed by the music. Was it my imagination, or had she flinched before answering?
“Huh?” said Lydia.
“He’s not coming,” Arden replied. I edged closer, thinking I must have misheard.
“He bailed on Winter Formal?” Lydia’s hands balled into fists on her sequined hips.
Arden shook her head. “He bailed onme.”
The three of us stared at her in shock until Lydia managed a hoarse, “What?”
“It’s fine.” Above her lock-jawed smile, Arden’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I’m over it.”
“Over—what are you saying?” Lydia sputtered. “Did you and Milesbreak up?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it, but yes.”
“Was it that girl?” Lydia demanded.
“No.” Arden looked at the floor. “That wasn’t the problem.”
“What was it?” Terry asked.
Arden shrugged. “Me, apparently.”
“That prissy little jerkwad,” Lydia started to say, grinding each word between her teeth.
“I literally cannot do this right now,” Arden said, holding up a hand. “I want tonight to be fun, and that means no crying.”
Lydia pressed her lips together in an angry line, nostrils flaring. I suspected she was counting in her head. “Can you at least tell us what happened?” she said in a more measured tone.
“Fine.” Arden bowed her head. “I’ll give you the short version. You know at Mary’s birthday, how everyone was so brave, laying all their feelings on the line?”
I gave a reluctant nod, not sure I would have characterized the evening in quite that manner.
“It made me realize it was time to talk to Miles about some things, so I decided to do what Mary said, and last weekend I drove to the conference center where he was having his tournament.”
“I said that?” I pressed a hand to my chest.
“Like the lady in the book,” Arden reminded me. “The one who goes to surprise her husband, but then he thinks she’s someone else?”
My stomach landed in my shoes. The last thing I’d intended was for Arden to useThe Tenant of Wildfell Hallas a blueprint for her own life. Even by Brontë standards, that plot was over the top.
“And?” Lydia prompted. “Did he know it was you?”
“Yeah. Only he wasn’t very excited to see me—especially after I let it slip why I was there. He wasn’t happy about me not trusting him. Or the part where I was trying to trick him.”
“What happened then?” Terry asked.
“He had to go to his next session.” Arden bit her lip. “I felt bad because he was obviously upset, and he didn’t exactly get to look over his note cards.”
“Boo-freaking-hoo,” Lydia cut in.
