“Hey, honey, how are you?”
“I’m good, how are you?” I try not to sound irritated as she acts like this isn’t the first time we’ve spoken in months.
“I’m good. Look, I heard you’re in Timberline. I would love to get coffee with you and catch up if you have some time today.”
I clench my jaw. Of course, she’s not just setting up a time; she’s demanding that it happens on her schedule.
Lucky for her, I’m still a loser, and my people-pleasing heart can’t say no to her, even though I want to.
“Sure, I can meet you at Lucy’s around noon.”
“Great, see you there.”
“Love—” I don’t even get the words out before she’s hanging up on me. My heart constricts, a new kind of anxiety settling over me. I look down at my pancakes, and they no longer seem appetizing.
“Well, this is not going to be fun,” I mumble, giving Mocha a frown, before I clean up breakfast and head upstairs to my room to get ready.
I’m sure that she’s known I’ve been in town, so the only reason that she’s calling is that she wants something.
I riffle through my clothes, my stupid brain telling me that I have to look good for her, that if I look nice, she’ll love me, that if I look up to her standards, it’ll earn her affection.
It’s desperate, and I shouldn’t listen to the little voice, but I don’t know how to tell it that it’s unreasonable.
So I put on a cute skirt and a cute tank top before curling my hair and putting on some light makeup. When I stand in front of the mirror, I try to smile and look happy. To remind myself of how far I’ve come in the three years since I last saw her. But all I see is a broken girl who is still trying way to fucking hard to earn the approval of people who don’t care about her.
I take a deep breath, willing the stupid voice in my head to shut up for five minutes before I crash the fuck out.
A quarter to noon, I kiss Mocha on the head. With horrendous anxiety, I get into my car, and I drive into town.
Lucy’s is a cute little sit-down brunch spot on the far end of town, far away from the one where I usually get my coffee. You know, the one that I’ve avoided sinceithappened.
I miss it, but whenever I get a drink from there, all I can remember ishimchasing me down the street and then sobbing into Beckett’s couch for two weeks.
So that place is a no-go zone for me right now.
I try not to think about it, choosing to focus on all the things that I should say to Monica when I see her, but know that I won’t because I’m too chicken.
I park my car around back, tucking my phone into my cute bag next to my wallet before locking my car and then making sure it’s locked by locking it again. I drop the keys into my purse before taking a deep, centering breath and walking inside.
It isn’t hard to find Monica. I can hear her as soon as I walk in; her overly enthusiastic voice echoes off the building’s walls.
I give the hostess a smile, walking past her and following the voice.
When Monica comes into view, she’s sitting at a corner table that overlooks Main Street. She’s sitting by herself, but she’s talking to someone that I’m sure I should know, but I can’t put a name to her face at the moment.
“Oh,Sloaney! I’m so happy to see you,” Monica squeals as soon as she notices me, my anxiety spiking tenfold when every head turns our way.
I stand awkwardly, making no move to hug her back as she squeezes me.
“Janet, I’ll give you a call,” she says, over her shoulder to the lady she had been talking to, who quickly turns and walks away, leaving me alone with this crazy person.
No, please, come back.It’s hard to keep the thought inside my head as she disappears from my sight.
Monica’s bright blonde hair is up in a ponytail, and she wears workout clothes that are a size too small, making her boobs look bigger than they are. The perfect makeup that is caked on her face tells me that she didn’t just get done with Pilates, the gym, or whatever it is she tells people she’s doing to keep her figure slim, when the real answer is probably just alcohol, coffee, and diet pills.
“Mom, it’s so nice to see you,” I lie, prying myself out of her arms and sitting down across from her.
She sits down, smiles at me, and just shakes her head. “You look so different. Georgia has been so good for you. I mean, look at you, you must’ve lost what…sixty, maybe, seventy pounds?”
