Page 68 of Rebel Bride
“For my mouth, more like,” Rosie said. “Okay, Summer, go.”
“Where do I start?”
“How about the church bathroom window? How did you even jump without breaking your ankle?”
On the train, I’d had time to think about my story, so I tried to keep it as truthful as possible. An Uber instead of a grumpy hockey player. A motel in the sticks instead of a lake house in Michigan. Time alone to reflect on my sins instead of lazy days on the patio, sunny spins around the lake, and orgasms on the hood of a car.
“What about Carter?” Adeline asked. “Have you had a chance to talk to him?”
“Briefly. He’s obviously not ready and I want to give him space. He did, however, change the locks, return my car to the dealership, and throw out all my belongings.”
Adeline’s eyes went wide. “What a dick.”
There was also the woman he took to our bed on our wedding day, but I could hardly talk, could I?
“He’s angry, and he has a right to be. I handled it poorly and I let my life become enmeshed in his in such a way that untangling comes with consequences. But I still have a separate bank account, so there’s that.” Not that I had more than a few hundred dollars in it after I set aside money for rent on wherever I would be living. So much for disaster preparedness.
Rosie squeezed my hand again. “What do you need from us?”
Tears sprang into my eyes. “Just being here and listening is amazing.”
“Have a pastry.” Adeline pushed a cranberry-orange scone my way. “We’re also bringing these to the party.”
I broke off a corner and popped it in my mouth, loving the buttery flakiness and sharp pop of fruit. “My next step is finding a place to live. I’ve already started looking at Craig’s List for roommates?—”
“Oh, you’re staying with us.” Rosie shared a quick check-in glance with Adeline, who nodded enthusiastically.
They had moved in together about six months ago. I would have expected Adeline to live with her boyfriend Lars and his little girl Mabel, who she had nannied for last year before they fell hard for each other. But they were taking it slow like the mature, grounded individuals they were. I could learn so much.
“But you guys don’t have room for me.” Please say you have room for me.
“We have an office with a pull-out sofa,” Rosie said. “It’s very small, but there’s a closet in there and we can probably squeeze a dresser in, if you need it. Unless you’d rather room with complete strangers like a weirdo.”
“Which we get,” Adeline said. “Rosie is kind of a grouch before her morning coffee, so I’d understand your reluctance. Oh my God, are you crying?”
I stroked away the tears. “I was so ashamed of how I behaved. That’s why I-I didn’t talk to you much. And now you’re being so forgiving and wonderful.”
Rosie shook my shoulder. “Nothing to forgive! You prioritized your mental health when you could have bowed to peer pressure and gone with the flow. Don’t you worry, we have your back.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hatch
* * *
I walked into the kitchen at my parents’ house on Chicago’s North Shore around lunchtime. My mom was rinsing a plate in the sink while my baby sister Tilly sat at the counter playing with Cheerios.
“Hey!” Mom grinned and reached out to hug me, holding her wet hands aloft. At the last second she streaked my face with them.
“Mom!” I wiped my damp face dry with a dish towel. So annoying.
“Sorry, couldn’t help it. I love seeing this beautiful face.”
Since moving back to town a year ago, I’d lived in a condo closer to downtown Riverbrook, but this was where I grew up and where I gravitated to in times of stress.
Or when the woman I wanted left me to marinate in misery at the lake.
“Hatch!” Tilly held out her arms, and I did as nonverbally ordered: lifted her up off the stool.
