Page 72 of The Play

“Nope. It’ll be a Thanksgiving surprise.”

“That sucks. They really like him, eh?”

“Like him? That’s like saying frat boyslikekegs. They’re obsessed with him, view him as a son-in-law. They’re going to be devasta—” I stop midsentence when a familiar person enters the Coffee Hut.

Corinne.

My spine snaps into a straight, inflexible line. Corinne tried calling several times after her housewarming. When I ignored her calls, she sent a text asking if we could talk. I sent one back saying that when I’m ready to talk, I’ll reach out myself.

Well, it’s been two weeks and I’m nowhere near ready.

She freezes like a deer in the headlights when she notices me. Then she recovers her composure and—dammit, she’s walking toward us.

“Hide me,” I plead at TJ, but it’s too late. Corinne reaches our little table, a nervous smile on her face.

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Hi.” My voice is tight.

“I know you said we’d talk when you’re ready, but…well, the holidays are coming up, and then we’ll be back and it’s final exams, and then spring break…” She shrugs wryly. “Maybe we should just clear the air right now?” She lets the request hang in the uncomfortable air between us.

TJ gives me a questioning look, as if to say,should I step in?

I respond with a slight shake of the head. “Fine,” I tell Corinne. To TJ, I say, “Do you mind? You’re supposed to go meet your roommate soon, anyway. Right?”

He nods. “Yeah, it’s no problem.” He eyes Corinne warily as he stands up.

She goes to grab a coffee, her black curls cascading down her back. She’s wearing a puffy navy-blue winter coat, which she takes off as she gets in line.

“I really don’t want to do this,” I tell TJ.

“I know, but you can handle it.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“You can handle anything,” TJ promises. “You’re fearless. But if you truly need an out, text me SOS and I’ll ditch Ryan and come right back.”

“You da best.”

He touches my shoulder, his palm lingering before he withdraws it. A moment later, the bell over the door jingles as he exits the coffeehouse.

When Corinne returns, we endure another awkward silence. I stare at her, because I’m not going to be the first person to speak.

“I’m so sorry,” is her opening line.

How original. “Yes, you already told me that.”

“I know, and I’m just going to keep saying it until maybe you’ll believe that I mean it.”

“Oh, I believe you mean it. But it’s easy to ask forgiveness. Whatshouldn’thave been easy for you was sleeping with your friend’s boyfriend.”

Shame colors her cheeks. She gulps, offering a quick nod. “I know. I made a mistake. And if you want to ask me any questions about it, I promise every word I say will be the truth.”

“Okay, I’ll bite.” My tone is more frigid than I intend it to be, but I can’t control it. “How many times did you sleep with him?”

“Once,” she says instantly. “It wasn’t long after the move. He came by one night to help me hang a shelf.”

I strain to recall when that could’ve been. Probably one of the nights Nico was working late. I wonder how many times he lied to me over the years. God. This entire conversation is so embarrassing.

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