Page 29 of Old Acquaintances

“Oh, I know,” he responds.

Callie smooths her short black pixie cut and comes over for a hug as well. “Happy Birthday!” she cheers, observing my outfit.

It’s basically the same thing she’s wearing, but she looks like a cool undercover secret agent in an action movie, and I resemble a sweaty child on Spring Break.

She says, “You’re so warm weather ready. What was the weather like at home?”

“Cold. Rainy.” I give Wyatt a sideways hug and his shaggy pink hair gets in my eyes. He has at least five more tattoos on his arm sleeve than he did six months ago.

“You wore that on the plane?” Callie wonders.

Tucker yells, “Ha!”

“It’s a long story,” I grumble.

“Not a long story at all.” Tucker downs his glass. “These people know you.Wildisas wilddoes.”

“So…you changed in the car?” Callie understands.

Tucker places the glass back in my hand. “Bingo.”

Serena replaces my empty glass with a full one. “Do they not have bathrooms in the airport?”

Wyatt perches on the edge of a blue couch and says, “Well then she wouldn’t get to flash everyone on the highway.” His blue eyes brighten. “You would doreallywell here in Florida, Ella.”

I stamp my foot. “Why do I feel like I’m being ganged up on when it’s my birthday?And…where’s Ritchie?”

“Here,” calls a voice.

I see a tall, dark figure sliding into the room. He drops his phone on the oval dining table and his soft-looking cotton shirt slides back and forth when he walks toward me. His perfect white teeth break into a smile. He’s not wearing a wedding ring for the first time in two years.

Ritchie pulls me into a hug that lifts my toes off the ground, and he smells clean and sharp, like the kind of man that dives off a rock in the Amalfi Coast in a cologne commercial.

He says, “Happy Birthday Ells. It’s good to see you.”

I just saw him this summer, but he was in the throes of his divorce and a little quiet, distracted.

“You too,” I reply.

His brown eyes shift from me to Tucker. “Tuck!” he booms and they immediately start talking.

I drop my bag on the hardwood.

Serena looks at my luggage and then pings her eyes to Johnny. He looks at Callie and then she looks at Wyatt. He mouths something back to her, holding his hands up.

“What’s going on here?” I wonder, pointing a finger at all four of them.

There’s a throat cleared to my left.

“Oh, honey!” Johnny rushes toward a short, petite woman at the edge of a hallway.

She has long, straight black hair and deep, dark eyes, as if she has on mascara and eyeliner, but I doubt she has on a spec of makeup on her perfect skin. She wears a flowy yellow sundress and I immediately think the outfit needs short white gloves.

She runs her eyes down the length of my body. I suddenly feel very conscious of how much of my skin is visible.

Johnny introduces: “Jen, this is Ella. Ella, this is Jen.”

She extends her clean, polish-free hand. I say, “Oh! Hi.” I shake it.

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