For the Love of Friends(55)

I smiled wryly. “So not my type at all, huh?”

She laughed, having lived through several of my terrible choices in men. “No, I guess not.”

“Let’s go back. He’s clearly not digging this, but maybe he’ll be over the ex by the rehearsal dinner and then we can say we got together at your wedding.” I linked arms with her as we worked our way back to the table. “Seriously, though, do you want me to send you some favor ideas?”

“I would love that.”

“Will Mama Meyer approve or will I have to talk her out of something else first?”

Sharon scrunched up her nose. “I owe you forever on that one.”

“Hey, I was proud. You actually stood up to her in the end.”

“I was proud of myself too. It didn’t occur to me that having you protest black was a bad plan.” She gestured to my outfit.

I laughed. “Can you picture my eventual wedding? It’ll look like a funeral but with better hors d’oeuvres.”

“It’ll happen, you know.”

“Yeah. I’m such a catch.” I flipped my hair.

Sharon stopped walking, stopping me with her. “You are, Lil. And when you realize that, other people will too.”

I couldn’t explain why, but I felt a lump in my throat. “Enough of that,” I said, swatting at her gently with the back of my hand. “Let’s go see if we can get Seth to answer a question with more than one word. It’ll be a fun game.”



I looked at my phone discreetly as we waited for the check. Seth had warmed up some, but not enough for me to tell if he actually had no personality or was just trying to give Mr. Darcy a run for his money at who could brood the most. But he hadn’t faked getting called into work, which I counted as a win because I was at least more interesting than an evening at home crying over his ex-girlfriend.

Whatcha up to? Alex had texted about half an hour earlier.

Disappointing one of my many brides by not being remotely interested in her fiancé’s cousin.

Three dots. Oh.

You okay?

Yeah. Just got home from my parents’ house.

Dad okay?

The dots appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared. Yeah.

“Who are you texting?” Sharon whispered.

“Alex.” She gave me a look. “What?”

She glanced over at Josh and Seth, who were looking at something on Josh’s phone together, then leaned closer and whispered, “Are you sure it’s not you who’s not interested tonight?”

“Just friends. I promise.”

She shrugged, then took a last sip of her wine. “Just saying.”

I slid my phone back into my purse and left it there until we left the restaurant.

But once I was in my Uber home, I pulled up the conversation with Alex. He didn’t usually give me one-word answers. Something was up. I’m leaving dinner now. You wanna meet up for a drink?

Nah. I don’t want to go anywhere.

You want me to come to your place?

If you want. I only have beer though.

Totally not coming then.

I knew I had finally gotten a smile out of him before he even replied. Yeah yeah yeah. I asked for his address, then leaned forward and asked my driver if he minded changing the destination.



He was in basketball shorts and a ratty Springsteen shirt when he opened the door, a beer already in his hand. “That’s a new look for you,” I said, walking past him and looking around. Pretty standard boy apartment. Leather sofa. Giant TV. Not much on the walls. Bigger and nicer than my place, but that made sense because he made more money than I did. I crossed to the balcony door to check out the view.

“I’m hanging out here when the weather gets warm.” I gestured to the pool in the courtyard.

“I haven’t even been down there.”

“We’ll change that.” I went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to grab a beer.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, a hint of a smile playing across his face.

“Hey, I’ve been here a good ninety seconds and you hadn’t offered me a drink yet. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Opener?”

“Do you want to just look in the drawers until you find it?”

“I can.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, took the beer from me, and opened it with his hand. “Twist off. You don’t know everything after all.”

“First time for everything.” I touched my bottle to his. “To your dad’s health.” He looked down. “He is okay, right?”

Alex sighed and leaned against the counter. “Yeah. He’s home and seems fine, all things considered.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“It just kind of hit me tonight.”

“What did?”

He hesitated. “He’s getting old. Like he’s going to die someday. Maybe soon.”

I shuddered involuntarily. Despite my often rocky relationship with my mother, I couldn’t imagine life without either of my parents. But my dad was sixty-two and my mom was sixty. Yes, my grandma was still going strong, but she was my only remaining grandparent. And my dad’s father died younger than he was now, before I was born.

I had really only contemplated their mortality as an adult once, at my other grandmother’s funeral. It was the only time I had seen my father cry. And I realized, as I sat next to him, my mother on his other side, each of us holding one of his hands, that one day I would be in his position. It was a thought I tried to suppress as much as I could, telling myself my mother would live to be at least a hundred just in case I gave her a late grandchild, and my dad—well—he biked a lot and was in really good shape. Better than I was. He would be okay because I needed him to be. Right?