Page 91 of Between Now and Forever
“What do you think it is?” Della asks.
“You notice the awkward silence too?” Scottie asks.
I clear my throat. “I can’t figure out what happened. We were only talking about Scottie and the vet.”
“It’s the way Cricket shot to her feet and couldn’t wait to get out of the room,” Della says before glancing over her shoulder. “Is anything going on with her?”
“Not that I know of,” I say.
Scottie shakes her head. “I had lunch with her yesterday and everything seemed fine.”
“Here you go,” Cricket says, announcing her arrival. “Scottie, you’re in desperate need of a restock on your alcohol.”
“I know,” Scottie says, taking a glass from Cricket. “I keep forgetting.”
“How do you forget alcohol?” Della asks.
“I only drink with you guys,” Scottie says. “If you’re not here or if I don’t know you’re coming, I never even look in that cabinet.”
Cricket hands me a cool glass filled with lemonade and then takes her seat. Her neck is blotchy. I can tell despite her taking her hair down and letting it flow over her shoulders.
“Are you okay, Cricket?” Della asks.
“Me? Yes. I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
Della glances at me. As if we’ve done this many times before, I jump in.
“You just seem a little off,” I say.
Her back is perfectly straight, her chin raised. “It’s nothing.”
Scottie reaches over and touches her arm. “Are you sure?”
A single, silent tear trickles down Cricket’s freckled cheek.
What the hell?
“Cricket ...” Della sets her glass down. “What’s going on?”
My cousin stares at a wall across the room. She sniffles, fighting hard not to break down. Watching her struggle to keep her emotions in check brings my own feelings to the surface.
I reach for her hand, and surprisingly, she places a shaky palm in mine.
“It’s what you said, Gabby,” Cricket says. “About not pretending in a relationship.”
Scottie, Della, and I exchange looks. None of us know what to say. Cricket is the stoic one, the one of the four of us who can put her emotions to the side and think with logic. She’s not the one to cry, not even in front of us.
“What’s going on?” Scottie asks softly. “Tell us. Let us help.”
Cricket laughs, sniffling. “You can’t help me with this.”
“Are you sick?” I ask.
“Is it Kyle?” Della asks.
Cricket’s face darkens. Instead of her growing more frantic or even sadder, as one might expect with an illness or a problem child, an iciness slides over her features.“It’s Peter.”
My brain spins wildly, trying to come up with a possible conflict between the couple that, until I moved onto Bittersweet Court, I thought was perfect. The hotshot CEO and the PTA mom. The sports car–driving husband and the luxury-SUV wife. The charismatic businessman and the trophy wife with their perfect son, on a beautiful street.
