Page 42 of The Thought of You

Caroline leans into me with a sigh as we watch the ex-couple sway to the music together. “What a blast from the past,” she muses. “Remember how in love they were?”

“Disgustingly so,” I say.

“Just like you and Stewart were. What happened with him, anyway?” She levels me with her curious stare. “You just told me you ended things, and that was it.”

I brace myself. “Let’s not ruin a fine evening with horror stories, okay?”

She holds her hands up in surrender and offers a sympathetic smile. “In that case, I’m going to run to the restroom, then find my flannel-wearing grump.”

“Go be happy,” I say as she playfully shimmies away, and I’m left with a bitter taste on my tongue at the mention of Stewart.

I never told her the truth about him because it’s hard to repeat it, even to my close friends. Maren barely knows the whole story—just that it has something to do with my mother since I ended things with Stewart the day after he met her.

“O.M.G.” Yvonne snickers. She and Emmy—or Emily, as she goes by now—block my view of Maren and Nate, both their brows hitched into an arch in the shape of a hook.

My skin itches with dread and discomfort.

“I’m pretty sure my grandma has this same dress,” Emily taunts, waving a condescending finger over me.

“She must have great taste, then.” I square my shoulders, raising my spine as if it’s attached by a string, and I’m dragging it up into a locked position.

But even at my tallest—and in my heels—I’m still a couple inches shorter than Cruella and Maleficent.

“Sweet Addie Lockhart.” Yvonne rubs her hand up and down my arm. “Some people just don’t change, do they?”

“You are still single and as predictable as ever, with this balloon arch and confetti on the tables like we’re in middle school.” Emily’s shrill voice snaps my last nerve like a twig. “You are just adorable, Addie. Bless your heart.”

“You’re right. Some people never change, and isn’t that a shame? Because you two could’ve been much better women by now if you’d grow up even just a fraction.” I start to hurl some insult regarding their fried hair from too many products or the fact that Yvonne has already been divorced twice in the last five years, but someone calls for Emily, interrupting what was sure to be the best ending to the most glorious ass-kicking I’ve ever delivered.

They saunter away, arm in arm, toward Emily’s husband, the uptight city counselor who’s seemingly on a campaign tour even though it’s not an election year. From what I overheard in the sitting room earlier about some mini mall he’s angling for, he’s off to an early start with his re-election.

I’d appreciate the ambition if he were married to anyone else.

“What did the evil twins want?” Austin sidles up next to me.

“The usual—they’re out for blood,” I mutter. “It wouldn’t be a trip to the past if they didn’t sink their fangs into some poor soul.”

“Good thing you’re no poor soul,” he says with a grunt.

I could launch into a scathing rant over the Wicked Witch and her wretched sidekick, but I opt for the high road. As I told Caroline, I’d rather not spoil a fun evening. Yvonne and Emily are not worth the trouble.

With all the hard work I poured into this event, I’m hell-bent on enjoying it, no matter what they think of the decorations.

I angle myself to face Austin. “Did you drop off food at my house the other night?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because we’re supposedly friends,” I point out.

“Yes, that,” he deadpans and scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t figure we were bring-each-other-food close.”

“I’ve brought you many baked goods over the years,” I remind him.

“You’ve brought those in exchange for something. It’s never without strings.”

“So, you didn’t drop off my favorite food from Lucy’s after float on Thursday?”

“From Lucy’s on Thursday?” His cloudy aqua eyes flash like a lightbulb, and it’s obvious that he knows something.

---