Speaking of which, it was time to get the day started. “Come on, graduate.” I nudged her shoulder. “We’ve got time for eggs and pancakes before we have to get ready, if you want to help.”
“Of course I want to help.” She threw off the covers on her side of the bed. “You know I make better pancakes.”
“Oh, you do not.” But I grinned as I followed her out of the bedroom. Caitlin made terrible pancakes, but hope sprang eternal with that kid. And far be it from me to quash that kind of optimism.
Thirteen
I wasn’t a sundress kind of person. Emily looked great in them, and our friend Stacey was a big proponent of them. But I was always more the trousers-and-twinset type at work, and on weekends lived mostly in jeans. Sundresses were twirly. Sundresses could show my scar.
But graduation was outside at the football field where there was no shade to speak of, and midmorning in June was just too hot for jeans or twinsets or any of it. So when I slipped into the end of a row of bleachers, off to the side where I could stay unobtrusive, I was wearing a flowered dress and heeled sandals, my hair blown out and up in a twist. I spotted Emily down in front, her head bent toward Simon’s. He had some papers in his hands, so he was probably one of the ones giving a speech at commencement.
I sat quietly, waiting for the ceremony to start, while all around me families buzzed with life and laughter. Dads held bouquets of flowers for their graduating daughters—shit, I should have done that—and younger siblings bounced fearlessly on the bleachers and squinted into the sun, pointing out their graduating brother or sister in the crowd below. My heart thudded when I spotted Robert, a few rows down and to my right, toward the front like he had every right to be there. And here I was skulking in the back. My shoulders rolled forward as I tried to make myself smaller. I didn’t want him to turn around and see me. See how much I wasn’t part of this community.
Just then, Emily turned and through some kind of weird family psychic power spotted me. She made an exaggerated face of impatience and waved me toward her, pointing at the bleacher behind her, which was still empty. I shook my head, but that only made her frown more and wave harder, so I grabbed my bag and made my way down there before she sprained something.
“What the hell, April,” she said once I’d picked my way down the rows and slipped in to sit behind her. “I was saving you this spot. Why were you sitting up there all alone?”
I shrugged; I didn’t have a good answer for her. I also didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself. This new seat put me almost directly into Robert’s sight line—we were in the same row now, and he was just a few feet to my right. Too close. I turned my head a little to the left so I couldn’t see him. So he couldn’t see me.
“Hey, there you are.” Mitch slid onto the bleacher beside me, bumping my left shoulder with his right one. “I was looking for you.”
“Here I am,” I repeated, trying for a brusque tone, but all the tension inside of me eased now that he was next to me. He was dressed much like he had been last night: jeans and a button-down shirt—light blue this time—his tie already loosened.
Mitch leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, but still looking at me. “How you feeling?” His voice was pitched low, just for me. “Headache?”
That forced a laugh out of me and I shook my head. “A couple glasses of water and some aspirin before bed. All good. Besides.” I gave him a small smile. “I had plenty of bread and cheese in my stomach to soak up the alcohol.”
His smile widened, lighting up his eyes. “You’re welcome.” I rolled my eyes in response, an automatic gesture, but his smile was infectious.
The ceremony began with a speech from the principal, and I leaned toward Mitch. “Are you giving a speech too?”
He snorted, which made Emily glance over her shoulder at us. She took one look at how close our heads were and raised her eyebrows with a small smile. I made a face at her and she turned back around. “Hell, no,” Mitch said, as though he hadn’t noticed Emily. “They leave that to the smart guys like Simon.”
“Hey.” My protest was low but vehement. “You’re a smart guy.” This was too much like that night in the hotel room, with Mitch confessing that his family thought he was nothing more than a mindless jock. I didn’t like that.
“Shhhh,” he said through his smile. “Don’t tell anyone. You have to do more when they think you’re smart.” He nodded down at Simon, shuffling the papers in his hands, clearly preparing for his turn to speak.
“Good point.” We shared a conspiratorial smirk before turning our attention back to the principal, who was still talking. Oh God, this was going to take forever.
Speech finally over, awards were given out next, and to my surprise, when Simon got up to speak, it was because he was presenting an English department award to Caitlin. He’d refused to have her in his Advanced Placement class, for fear of any appearance of favoritism, so it was nice for him to make this gesture now. “I didn’t have the pleasure of having her in my class,” he said, “but nonetheless I couldn’t be more proud to present this award to Caitlin Parker.” Polite applause covered her walk to the podium, and while he presented her with a small plaque the two of them spoke in low tones I couldn’t hear. They shared a smile and then a hug, and I dashed some tears from my cheeks. She spotted us in the audience when she headed back to her seat and grinned in our direction. I waved, Emily clapped, and Mitch sent out a piercing whistle that made me start.
“What?” He grinned at me when I turned to him. “She’s a good kid. I’m proud of her. This is about celebrating the graduates, right?”
“True.” I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Great job, Cait!” A few families around us chuckled, and I tingled all over with adrenaline from yelling in a crowd like that. Instinctively my eyes darted to my right, and just like I suspected, Robert was looking my way. No, he was glaring my way. I hadn’t been on the receiving end of that glare in a long time, but there was still a part of me that shrank at the sight of it.
“That’s him over there, isn’t it?” Mitch kept his smile on his face, like we weren’t talking about my estranged ex.
I nodded. “And he’s pissed. Not only did I make a spectacle of myself just now, but I called her Cait. He hates nicknames.” I hated that I remembered that about him. That brain cell would have been put to better use remembering my high school locker combination.
“Wow. He sounds like more and more fun the more you tell me about him. Have you talked to him yet?” Mitch’s voice was casual, but his eyes were intent, studying my face. When I shook my head, he relaxed a fraction. “Good.” He wrapped an arm around me like it was something he did every day.
“What are you doing?”
“Quid pro quo, babe. You were my girlfriend last weekend. Now it’s my turn.”
“To be my girlfriend?”
“Funny.” His fingers tightened on my shoulder.
“Okay, but . . .” I gave up on trying to get free; honestly I wasn’t trying that hard. Something about his arm around me softened all my sharp edges. He was just so damn comfortable to be around.