Page 94 of The Invitation
Her name is a sentence, a concept—an answer. I can’t dispute it. I don’t want to. But I do need to rein him in before he gets on the phone like an old spinster and tells the world.
“Let me explain,” I say.
“Yeah. Please do,” Tate says before turning to Gannon. “I’ve been waiting for this for years.”
Gannon is puzzled. “Should I know Georgia?”
“No,” Tate says. “She went to school with us and is best friends with Jeremiah’s fiancée, Sutton.”
“Okay,” Gannon says, nodding. “I remember her. I met them … somewhere recently.”
“Yes. We played golf against Jeremiah in the cancer charity tournament last weekend.”
He nods. “Right.”
“Anyway,” Tate says, forever the gossip, “Georgia and Ripley fight like cats and dogs.”
Gannon smirks.
“They once had an argument in the comment section of one of my Social posts. Totally stole all the attention from me,” Tate says, sticking me with a quick glare.
“The horror.” Gannon shakes his head. “So you and Georgia have a contentious relationship. Got it. Now what happened so I can move on with my life?”
They both look at me expectantly.
How do I say this correctly? Carefully? How do I put something into words that I don’t fully understand myself just yet?
“You fucked her,” Gannon says without a hint of emotion.
“It’s not like that.”
“What?” Tate’s jaw drops. “You fucked her?”
My temple throbs as I pin him to his seat with a look. “I didnotfuck her.”
He leans back.Smart move.
“We were trapped in a cabin during the storm,” I say. “It gave us time to talk.”
“And fuck,” Gannon says.
“Gan, I don’t want to fight you, but I will.”
He smirks, the sonofabitch.
“We cleared the air about a lot of things,” I say. “It turns out that we just needed some time to get on the same page.”
“So you got on the same page?” Tate asks carefully.
“Yes.” I fire a look at Gannon not to interject. “We rehashed a lot of things, got to the bottom of a number of events and misunderstandings, and?—”
“And you fucked.” Gannon shrugs. “We know where this is going, Ripley.”
“You know what? This is why I don’t invite you over much, Gannon. You’re an asshole.”
He grins. “Fine. Shoot the truth teller.”
“So the two of you are … what?” Tate asks. “Friends now?”
