I give her a tight-lipped smile and a stiff nod of my head. Of course, the first thing that she’s going to bring up is my appearance, but I suspected nothing less from her.
“Well, you look amazing. I’m so proud of you, honey,” she gushes, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand.
I let her hold my hand for a few moments before pulling it away and picking up the menu in front of me. She says nothing and takes a big sip of what looks like a mimosa. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and keep myself focused on the menu.
“What can I get you to drink?” a waitress asks me with a smile.
“Can I just get a water, please?” She nods.
Before she can walk away, Monica interjects, “Can I get another one of these?”
The waitress gives a tight-lipped smile as Monica lifts her now empty glass, before walking away as quick as possible.
Neither of us says anything as we browse through the menu. I decided what I wanted a few minutes ago, but I keep looking so I can avoid talking to her.
“So, your social media stuff looks like it’s going well. You have lots of followers, and I saw that you have a dog now.”
I tighten my jaw, allowing myself a deep breath before painting a fake smile onto my face and setting the menu down.
Everything about this interaction is setting off alarm bells in my head. All I want to do is go home, cuddle Mocha, wait for my man to get home so I can melt into him, and forget about this whole interaction.
“Yeah, it’s going well. And yes, I do have a dog, his name is Mocha.”
“You’re staying with Beckett, aren't you?”
I nod my head, my fingers twisting anxiously in my lap. I’m not sure where this is going, but I don’t really like it.
“Is he still as good-looking as he was back then?”
“I don’t follow,” I say, my heart beating faster in my chest. I don’t like the way she’s looking right now, almost like she wants to pounce. Like she’s two seconds away from finding Beckett and jumping him.
“Come on, Sloaney, you can be honest with me. We’re both grown women here, we can admit when we see an attractive man, can’t we?” Just then, the waitress comes back with our drinks, saving me the horror of my mom trying to steal Beckett, which shouldn’t unlock a new insecurity. But for some reason, deep in my mind, it’s like something clicks, and I try to shake down the horrible feeling that begins to seep into my blood.
“Thanks,” I say. The waitress nods, pulling out a little book and writing down both of our orders before she turns and hurries away from us as fast as she can. I’m not surprised, I’d do the same if I could.
“What was I saying?” Monica asks, sipping more of her drink. “Oh, right,Beckett. He’s just so good-looking, isn’t he? I always wanted him in high school, and somehow I settled for Briar.”She rolls her eyes, and I sit still as a board, unsure of what my polite smile has morphed into.
“Is he single?”
Her question has me scrambling.What do I say? Do I tell her that he is, or do I say that he isn’t?Obviously, I’m not stupid enough to say that I’m dating him. The whole town would know in less than an hour if I did that.
“I’m not really sure. We don’t really talk about our dating lives. We’re just roommates. He works long hours; I don’t really see him. When I do, I don’t ask him about his sex life.”
She giggles at me. I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and I’m not sure if I should be angry or embarrassed.
“I should call him sometime. It’s been long enough since Briar and I were anything. Maybe Beckett would want to try and kindle something.”
The more she talks, the more uncomfortable I become.
“Did you ask me to lunch just to ask me about Beckett?” I try to collect myself. I take a sip of the cold water, hoping to cool my fiery cheeks. The little green monster slithering up from my stomach and into my lungs.
Realistically speaking, Monica would be a way better choice for Beckett. They are closer in age, and they know each other well. Monica is way prettier than I, much more experienced. Sure, she might be a little too high-maintenance for him, but them being together would make a lot more sense than him and me.
“Sorry, I’m getting sidetracked. Iamcurious about Beckett, but no, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She giggles again, tipping back the rest of what’s in her glass. My skin crawls, and I get more and more anxious as she sits in front of me.
Maybe it’s a good thing that neither of my parents has tried to seek me out while I’ve been home.
