“We won’t stay out late. But he wants to celebrate the anniversary of me becoming a mom, which is lame but also sweet, and I want you there.”
“I don’t drink during the season,” I remind her.
“Paul Rebeer’s has soda.”
“Is this another double date?” I ask warily.
“No. Just the three of us, hanging out like old times.”
“Okay.”
“Speaking of double dates… Walker told Josh you guys, uh, fizzled out?”
I’m surprised, honestly, that it’s taken her this long to ask. “Yeah. We weren’t…compatible.”
It was a massive relief, when Walker told me a colleague at work had asked him out. I assured him I was too busy with soccer anyway, and that was the end of the one-sentence texts we’d traded back and forth for a couple of weeks. My stomach never flipped, not once, when his name showed up on the screen. Let alone the fireworks display that used to go off in Paris when Otto sent me a new message.
The doorbell rings.
“That must be the caterers!” Cassidy exclaims, bustling around the island and heading toward the front door.
As soon as her back is turned, I make a face.
I kept my mouth shut about the party. I knew any negative input would upset Cassidy, and Tommy was obviously thrilled about the elaborate plans. My dad’s gift—well, one of them, I’m assuming—was a bouncy house for the party. That was delivered and assembled first thing this morning. Tommy has been jumping in there ever since.
My phone begins buzzing on the counter. It’s a number, not a name, on-screen, so I answer hesitantly. “Hello?”
“Hello? Is this Claire Caldwell?” a deep voice asks.
“Yes. This is she.”
“This is Travis Malcom from 617 Towing. I’m calling to let you know your vehicle is ready to be picked up whenever you’d like.”
I exhale a relieved sigh. “Great. Thank you. I’ll be by tomorrow morning. What-what is the final total for the repairs?”
A pause.
“The bill has already been paid, ma’am.”
“What? That must be a mistake. There’s…” My voice trails as I realize thereissomeone who would have paid it on my behalf. The same person who had called the garage and arranged for my sedan to be towed.
“Thank you,” I repeat, then hang up, carefully setting my phone on the counter.
I shouldn’t have asked Otto how much the repair would cost. But it never occurred to me he’d cover the expense.
And I’m grateful. It was a thoughtful gesture. But I resent how inferior it makes me feel. Most people would describe me as efficient and organized. But around him—the person I most want to see me as capable? I’m constantly needing help. My phone dies, or I drink too much tequila, or my car quits.
Voices drift from the front hall. The distraction is a relief, until I recognize the deepest one.
My dad appears in the doorway a few seconds later. Lindsey is right behind him, as impeccably dressed as every other time I’ve seen her. Hair highlighted and nails manicured.
It should be a consolation—that my father’s second wife is about as opposite of my mom as could be. I can admit now that he and Lindsey are better-suited as a couple. A practical pair. But their ideal match came at the expense of what I considered a perfect family, and their happiness only serves as a reminder.
“Hello, Claire. Nice to see you.” Lindsey speaks first, as unfailingly polite as ever.
She’s never forced any relationship between us—easy when our lives barely overlap at all. I could count on both hands the number of times we’ve been in a room together.
“You too, Lindsey.”
