Page 79 of Dear Pink

“You aren’t gluten-free, are you? Many people don’t eat carbs these days.” Ghita digs through my cart.

I can’t open my mouth to answer without screaming, so I shake my head no.

“She might have plans already,” Franny says, attempting to get me off the hook. God, I love this woman. I can’t go to Gabe’s house after ditching him last night.

Gina clasps my hand and swings my arm as if we’re elementary schoolmates. “Come on, Hannah. Come to our house.”

She’s hard to resist. Gina’s sweet, and I dread disappointing her. I can’t say, “Your brother and I are kaput. I ruined everything with him, and I’m a loser," and dart out of the store. Oh, wait, maybe I can? I should make a run for it. Just take off.

I glance at the crowd of stunning women around my cart. How would I get through them all? I examine my items. I don't need any of this stuff. I debate abandoning the Target buggy and racing for the exit. I could duck under them and crawl away. Maybe they wouldn't notice. I imagine the exit course in my head when Libby practically screams.

Quit behaving crazy. Go have dinner and girl time with the fun women.

“Hannah, if you don’t already have plans, please come to dinner,” Franny says. “I made fresh pasta this afternoon and red wine sauce. Nothing special. Please come.” Franny places her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. The gesture lifts my spirits for a brief moment.

“Oh, you don’t have to invite me. I’m good.” I flash her the peace symbol with my fingers. Shit, I should dive under the cart for sure.

“I know, honey, but I want you to come.” She points to her daughters and snickers. “Heck, I could use the help painting all these nails.”

“Okay. Sure.” I hardly believe those words come out of my mouth. Fracking hell. I agreed to the invitation. I try to look on the bright side. Maybe their company will shake the gloom away.

“We’re a lot,” Franny whispers to me. “I get it. This introvert is overwhelmed by her extroverted children every single day. Come over. Maybe the company will cheer you up.”

I take in a deep breath. She sees my pain.

She places her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s eat dinner and have a beauty night.”

Franny is right. Friendly company might be the remedy for my funk, but is this a wise decision? Have I set myself up for catastrophe? What if I can’t set things straight with Gabe? Will he agree to a casual relationship? I mean, what guy would say no to sex without the relationship strings attached?

“I have a few more items on my list. I’ll check out and head over,” I say to them. It’s a lie. I don’t need a damn thing except for alone time to process my overwhelming emotions.

“Great,” Franny says. “Do you remember the address?”

I nod. Who could forget their fantastic house? The place resembles the Weasley’s home, full of love and chaos. Yes, this distraction will be healthy for me. I must get out of this mental state if I plan to present myself as fun and casual to Gabe. No one wants a melancholy fling.

“Okay. See you then, dear.” She pats my arm again.

“Later, Hannah,” Ghita says.

“I’ll buy a pink shade. Those dark colors depress me.” Gemma throws a pale mix of nail colors in their cart.

“Yay, beauty party. Count me in.” Gina beams, giving me another squeeze.

I watch them saunter away, full of chatter and giggles. Gabe’s sisters and mom are such a force. I love being part of their group, but the minute they are out of sight, my shoulders sag. Self-doubt overpowers any positive thoughts.

I stare at my cart. What did I get myself into? I can’t simply appear at Gabe’s parents’ house after I lied to him. But they are expecting me. My head throbs, and I wonder if I could hang out in one of the Target displays, tucked in among the beds and soft blankets.

Seeing no beds, I head toward the cashiers. No one mentioned Gabe was invited to dinner, so he might never know I showed up. I plan on explaining the circumstances to Gabe, eventually. Well, not the Libby part . . . that ship sailed weeks ago. I pretended far too long to explain the omission now, but I still want to rectify the situation.

Can’t I turn our relationship into friends with benefits? Casual sex is every guy’s fantasy, right? Why should Gabe be any different?

***

I park in the Russo driveway and stall, listening to a sad pop song on the radio. My pep talk didn’t work. Since leaving Target, doubt returned in full force. I don’t want to drag this terrible attitude inside with me. Should I tell them how I screwed up the Gabe situation? They might offer dating advice . . . or kick me to curb on his behalf. Ugh.

Driving away is the best option. But before I can flee, Gina runs outside. She throws open my car door and squeals. “Yay. You’re here. Mom asked us to pick the dessert.”

I climb out of my car and smile at this charming girl. No wonder she and Gabe are besties.

---