Page 105 of Whatever Lola Wants

Anna stopped pacing. “Can I borrow it? Maybe I can tag him during the wedding reception.”

“Anna,” Lola chided.

“What?”

Lola laid her head back against the couch. “It’s not Simon’s fault.”

“Are you kidding me?” Anna all but shouted. “Of course it’s his fault. You didn’t?—"

“It’s his fault he lied to me,” Lola said tiredly. “But it’s not his fault I wasn’t what he needs. That’s nobody’s fault. It just…is.”

Anna huffed out a breath and dropped into a chair. “You’re making it hard to be on your side here.”

“Sorry,” Lola murmured, a small smile curving her lips. “I appreciate that you hate him on my behalf.”

“He broke you heart,” Anna said.

“Yeah,” Lola said quietly, feeling the pain well up all over again. “He did.”

Anna’s eyes filled with sympathetic tears. “I just don’t understand it. He was happy with you. We could all see it. So why does he think someone else will make him happier?”

Lola rubbed her gritty eyes. “I don’t know. But it’s his call to make.”

Ginger unfolded herself from her chair. “I’m going to get you something for your eyes.”

Anna watched her go, then turned back to Lola. “I wish you weren’t hurting, honey.”

“I wish I wasn’t either,” Lola said quietly.

“Are you in love with him?”

The quiet question did what all of Anna’s shouting and storming couldn’t; it broke her.

“Oh,” Anna gasped when the tears spilled over. “Oh, honey. Don’t.”

Lola just shook her head. Now that the dam had broken, she couldn’t make it stop.

Ginger came running in, the washcloth in her hand dripping onto the rug. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Anna sat on the couch next to Lola, stroking her back, her arm, her head. “I just asked her if she was in love with him.”

“Well, I’d say that’s a yes.” Ginger dropped the washcloth onto a plate before sitting on the floor in front of the sofa and adding her hands to Anna’s.

Lola lifted her face from the pillow. “I just can’t seem to stop crying.”

“You don’t have to,” Ginger put in. “If you need to cry, you cry. If you need to scream, we’ll scream with you. If you want pie and ice cream, I’ll go out and get pie and ice cream.”

Lola gave a watery laugh. “I don’t need pie and ice cream,” she sniffed, then looked at Ginger. “What kind of pie?”

They had cherry pie with chocolate and peanut butter ice cream, and ate sitting on the floor around the coffee table. Anna said it was a disgusting combination, especially when with the wine factored in, but she ate it anyway.

“Pretty good pie,” Ginger said, scooping up the last bit of filling from her plate.

“It’s okay,” Anna shrugged. “I make better.”

“Then the next time I get dumped, bake one,” Lola told her.

“You know, I have this theory about relationships.”

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