Page 55 of Protecting Her Secrets

“This is Skylar.” I haven’t thought about how I’d introduce her to people, but since I’m not known for my charming personality, no one expects me to be open with information.

“I’m his wife.” Skylar steps up to the old woman and offers her hand.

“Wife?” Lavanya stares me down as she steps around the hostess stand. “I’m a hugger and if you’re married to this grumpy guy, that makes you family.”

“I’m a hugger too.” Skylar grins as they embrace.

“When was the wedding? August and I didn’t see an invite, but you know Atticus has a habit of delivering to the wrong address, so maybe?—”

“We’ve been married for fifteen years. I didn’t even know you then,” I say.

“And why is this the first time I’m meeting her?” She folds her arms.

“We’ve been estranged,” I mumble.

Her eyes close briefly, and she shakes her head. “Well, you should be glad she’s here now. I was worried you’d end up like Gargoyle, growing old up on your hill by yourself.”

“I’m only thirty-six.” The words have me frozen in place. I’m not ancient, but when the hell did I get this old? And Skylar is the same age and she’s pregnant. I wonder if there are risks to that. I’ll have to read about it tonight.

“Exactly,” Lavanya says, grabbing menus and leading us to a booth. “Harper will be right over to serve you.”

“Thanks, La.” Instead of sitting opposite Skylar, I slide in after her.

Lavanya pops me in the back of the head. “That’s for not telling me you were married.”

“Hey!” I grouse.

Her tight expression morphs into a smile as she turns her attention to Skylar. “Welcome to Culver Springs, Skylar. If this idiot makes you mad, you come see me. I’ll put him in his place.”

Skylar swallows her laughter. “I’ll do that.”

“I don’t understand why everyone picks on me.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re the town grump,” Skylar says, her eyes dancing with humor. “And what did she mean by Gargoyle?”

“There’s a guy who lives on one of the hills. No one knows him or even his name. He only comes to town a couple times a year to stock up on supplies before disappearing again.”

“That’s sad.”

“Anyway, since we don’t know his name, we call him Gargoyle.”

One of the waitresses, Harper, approaches with her head down. She’s a shy, mousy girl who has only been in town a couple months. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m good with water. Sky?”

“Do you have shakes?”

Harper peers up at her through her glasses. “Chocolate, cookies and cream, vanilla, or strawberry.”

“Cookies and cream, please. Oh, and extra whipped cream if you have it?”

“I can do that.”

Harper walks away, and I wrap my arm around Sky. “We’re not done talking about your shit being destroyed.”

She pulls a napkin from the stack and begins shredding it as she thinks of what to say. “It sucks, but I’m not surprised. He doesn’t get mad; he gets even.”

“You’re handling it better than I did. I guess I thought you’d cry and be upset.”

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