Page 76 of Light My Fire Three Times
“I didn’t even answer!”
“Exactly,” Mitchell says, smirking. “That’s a silent admission of guilt.”
I shake my head, moving toward the dining table while the argument reignites behind me. Penny’s back in the room now, holding what appears to be a broken T Rex in one hand and a Barbie in the other, and she’s trying to marry them—typical Penny logic.
I’m halfway through laying out the forks when I feel someone at my shoulder. Freddie. He’s ditched the debate, beer in hand, and he’s wearing thatlook. Half curious, half cautious.
“Need a hand?” he asks, suddenly oddly interested in table settings.
“Sure,” I say, even though I know that’s not why he’s here.
Freddie’s allergic to chores unless there’s gossip involved.
He grabs a couple of knives, sets them down in the wrong spots, and leans in. “Saw someone in town earlier.”
I don’t look at him, just line up a plate. “Yeah? We still talking about lasagna or…?”
“Vanessa,” he says, low enough that Ivy’s kitchen clatter drowns it out.
My stomach knots.
There really is no escape for me.
I take a breath, keep even. “Where?”
“Main Street. By the café. She didn’t see me.” Freddie studies me for a beat. “You knew she was back, right?”
I nod, jaw tight. “Yeah.”
He whistles under his breath. “Guess that explains the face you’re making.”
I huff out something that’s not quite a laugh. “Great. Glad my emotional stability’s visible to the naked eye.”
Freddie doesn’t let it go. He never does. “You gonna tell me what’s up there? Because Ivy… she’ll sniff this out like blood in the water.”
I glance toward the kitchen. Ivy’s still barking orders, entirely in her element, but if she catches wind of this, I’m dead.
“She’s been texting me,” I admit, quietly. “Nonstop. For days.”
Freddie raises a brow. “And you’ve been…?”
“Ignoring her.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean as we head into the hallway to have this chat a little more privately. “Or trying to.”
He leans on the back of a chair, watching me, waiting for the rest.
“It’s just…” I rub the back of my neck, searching for words that don’t make me sound like a complete idiot. “It was over. Done. And now she’s here, acting like it wasn’t. She even came to see me. Tried to get back together.”
Freddie takes a slow sip of his beer. “That’s rough. You want her back?”
I shake my head. “No way. I’mdone.”
I can’t tell him why I’m done. I can’t mention that I met someone I like better because Ivy can never find out about me and Livvy.
Freddie studies me for a beat. He knows there’s more, but, thank goodness, Ivy saves me from confessing to a felony by yelling for us again.
We move into the dining room, and the noise level doubles.
Ivy’s already herding kids into chairs as efficiently as a drill sergeant. Mitchell and Timothy are still ribbing each other about pasta, and Freddie slides into a seat with a look that says, we’re not finished here.
