Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SOPHIE
Hannah and I decide it’s a fantastic idea to drink some peach schnapps for “old times’ sake.” We also watch my absolute favorite rom-com— 10 Things I Hate About You , followed by a delightfully terrible one. We each claim one side of the worn, plaid sectional couch in my great-aunt’s living room, the floor of which is still covered in red satin. It’s crazy late by the time we turn the TV off, considering that Hannah has to show up to work at noon, but she loudly proclaims it’s Future Hannah’s problem—right before she finishes the schnapps.
“Good God, that was awful,” she says with a shudder.
I grin at her, feeling awash with pure fondness. “I’m sorry to say that’s Present Hannah’s problem.”
“Hey, what happened with you and Rob, by the way? You were outside with him for a long time.”
This is accompanied by a suggestive wagging of her eyebrows.
I snort-laugh. Hannah is delightfully ridiculous. “Nothing. He lectured me.”
“Like in a sexy, stern daddy kind of way?”
More laughter. “Like in a he-thinks-he-knows-best kind of way.” I feel guilty even as I’m saying it, because that wasn’t really what had happened. Our conversation made an impact on me.
Because he was right.
Who would I be if my life had all been smooth sailing?
I certainly wouldn’t be the person I am, the person who’d stood up before Dottie, Rob, my cousin, and my new friend and pledged to love myself as I am. Doesn’t that entail accepting what happened in my past? Maybe being grateful for it in some absurd way?
I’m definitely not there yet, but I can’t deny he planted the seed of something inside of me. A new perspective.
I try to explain that, and Hannah starts laughing hysterically. “He planted his seed inside of you?”
So being drunk in the middle of the night in a wedding dress isn’t the best time to have a serious conversation…
“I guess I’m trying to say that he’s not all bad.”
“No,” she agrees. “And he’s, like, at least ten times hotter than Jonah. Maybe twenty. It’s too bad you don’t like him like that. It would have been the ultimate queen-bee-level revenge for you to hook up with his brother.”
“You could,” I say, immediately regretting it, although not because I have a thing for Rob. Sure, he’s a better person than I thought, and he’s interesting and talented, and, yes, quite good-looking, but he’s also the brother of the man I was supposed to marry. There are talk shows for that kind of thing.
“Nah,” she says flippantly. “He’s not my type. I have this pattern where I always date assholes and then act surprised and affronted when they turn out to be assholes. It’s my thing.”
We laugh and then fall asleep talking. It feels good . I’d forgotten what it was like to have a friend like this.
Sure, I had Jonah before all of this happened, but that was different. With him, I was always on guard. My happiness with him had felt tenuous, as if it could be snatched away if I failed to walk along the carefully marked line he’d drawn for me. I’d been so careful, and it had happened anyway.
I think again of what Rob said to me. If Jonah hadn’t switched our phones that morning, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have Hannah or Briar, and even Dottie would only be a sweet acquaintance, not a real friend. I certainly wouldn’t be friendly with Rob.
Worse, I’d still be engaged to a man who was using me in the worst possible way.
So, yes, I decide I can be grateful for the phone swap. Even though I wish I’d kneed Jonah in the balls the day we met instead of giving him my number.
The thought makes me laugh softly to myself as I fall asleep.
When Hannah’s alarm startles us awake in the morning, we’re still sprawled out on the living room sectional, our feet touching because it’s too small for two sleeping adults. I’m still in the wedding dress, which was never comfortable and is now less so. The stick-on bra I’d needed to wear with it has shifted and adhered to just below my collarbone, making me look like a Picasso. The empty bottle of schnapps lies on its side on the parquet wooden floor. At least we had the presence of mind to remove the red satin floor covering.
“I hate Past Hannah,” Hannah groans, rubbing her forehead. Her makeup is smeared, and she’s pale, but otherwise she looks okay. I’m sure I really do look like Miss Havisham now, and my mouth tastes like rotten peaches.
“I’m not fond of Past Sophie right now either,” I say with a groan as I sit up.
“Why not?” Hannah asks with a grin. “She gave you a third boob. You’re basically unstoppable now.”
We laugh, then groan again, because it hurts to laugh.
After I change into sweatpants and throw the horrible sticky bra in the trash, I make us coffee and dry toast.
Hannah asks me to come to Big Catch for lunch, but I have a different plan. I don’t have to work today. I took the day off because I had a feeling I’d be massively hungover. Go, past me! So I’m going back to the ginger beer brewery. First, because I realized last night that we never paid for our drinks, and I’m mortified that we stiffed them. Second, to ask some leading questions about Jonah and why he got banned from the brewery.
“Ugh. I want to come,” Hannah says after I share my plans. She sets down her dry toast. “But one of the corporate overlords is coming by today.”
Otis comes into the kitchen, wearing his flannel pajama bottoms and a Garbage Fire T-shirt. The logo is of, well, a garbage fire. But the dumpster has eyes. It’s kind of a cute design, actually.
My cousin isn’t an early riser, but he has a sixth sense for when other people have made coffee and breakfast.
“Did Rob give you that shirt?” I ask with a smile.
He nods with the stupor of someone who doesn’t function properly without caffeine. “After one of his shows.”
A sweet gesture.
I can’t help but wonder what Rob would look like belting out his songs. But I shake off the thought; I don’t like the strange way it’s making me feel. Or the impulse to go on their website and check the schedule for their next show. He’d think it was weird if I just showed up and fangirled over them, wouldn’t he?
Still, he mentioned they’d be playing at Buchanan sometime soon. I make a mental note to ask my boss about it.
Otis seems unimpressed by the dry toast I set in the middle of the table but shrugs and takes a piece. Then he pours himself some coffee and settles into the chair next to me, across from Hannah.
“Maybe I’ll ask Briar to come with me on her lunch break,” I muse, and Otis perks up like a golden retriever puppy offered a treat.
“Can I come?”
“You don’t even know what they’re doing. What if they’re getting hers-and-hers colonoscopies?” Hannah asks with a laugh.
“They’re not,” he says, rolling his eyes. Then he looks at me. “You’re not?”
“We’re not. I’m going back to the ginger beer brewery to ask some questions.”
“Like a private investigator?” he asks.
I consider it and then nod, deciding I like that thought. It feels proactive . “Yes. We’re trying to identify GingerBeerBabe.”
Hannah has been all in on the idea of tracking her down from the beginning, but I decide it’s important to me too. Maybe GingerBeerBabe wants nothing to do with us. Maybe she’s not eager to be a friend the way Briar and Hannah have become, but it’s possible she feels as alone and broken as I did when I first saw those messages. Before I realized that even though it was the end of something, it could be the beginning of something too.
I think about Rob again, talking about accepting the past. He has a lovely way of speaking, is all. It’s probably why he’s so good at writing lyrics.
“You think she’s hot?” Otis asks through a mouthful of toast.
“Yes, Otis,” Hannah says dryly. “Maybe you’ll get lucky, and she’ll pretend to date you too.”
I roll my eyes, then text Briar while I’m finishing my coffee. Unfortunately, she can’t come unless we go tomorrow. I don’t want to leave the bill unpaid for so long, so I decide to go without her.
Otis loses interest when he finds out she’s not coming and leaves to do a Honey Do job, laundry for someone else, even though he has a mountain of dirty clothes in his room. Hannah finishes her coffee, groans a lot, and leaves to take a shower.
I take a shower and then prepare to leave. When I grab my phone to put it in my purse, I see a few notifications on the screen.
My heart beats hard when I see the first one, from an unknown number.
It’s me.
Jonah.
I need a chance to give you my side of the story, Soph.
It’s only fair, and I know you’re fair.
Do not, under any circumstances, ambush me at work.
I see my brother’s been spreading stories.
I’m blocking this number too, Jonah.
I’d say have a nice life, but we both know you don’t deserve it.
I love you, Sophie. I’m going to prove it to you.
This isn’t over.
I rub the bridge of my nose after blocking this number too. His last words sounded ominous. I could have pointed that out, but it would have prolonged the conversation, which I didn’t feel up to.
What if Jonah is camped outside of the ginger beer brewery, waiting for me? I checked last night, and it’s impossible for a person you’ve blocked to use the Find My Friend app. So how did he know where to find me?
I take a couple of deep breaths and then head out the door. The moment I unlock the car with the key fob, Dottie’s front door flies open.
“Wait for me, dear,” she says, practically vaulting toward my driveway. I gasp, worried she’ll break a hip or trip. “Please. I’ll be right there.”
I frown. She’s acting as if we’d made plans to do something together.
“Did we make plans?” I ask as she comes to a stop on the other side of my Honda. She’s holding an oversized Tupperware filled with something.
“Oh, no,” she says. “You made an important vow yesterday, and I’m sure you spent a long night loving yourself, the way anyone should after a wedding. I didn’t expect to see you until nightfall.” My mouth drops open, but she continues, undaunted. “One of my granddaughters was at The Ginger Station last night, though, and she saw something most curious.” Eyes glimmering, she says, “ Jonah . And you were there, too, my dear, weren’t you? With Rob and our other friends?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, feeling a throbbing pain developing in my temple. “Did you ask your granddaughter to go there to keep an eye on us?”
Was she one of the ladies with the kid?
“Of course,” she says smiling, completely without qualms “I told your aunt Penny I’d keep an eye on you, and I intend to do a thorough job of it. What kind of friend would I be if I let you walk into a situation like that without any help at hand? Did Hannah put up those posters we made?”
“You…” I can’t actually find the words to complete that sentence. Dottie doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d help create something so inflammatory. “ You helped her?”
“I tried to convince her we should say he has a dark aura,” she says, clucking her tongue, “but she told me some young women would be drawn in by that. No young woman wants crabs.”
That certainly sounds like Hannah.
I give Dottie a quick rundown of what happened last night, and she nods decisively. “Oh, dear me, yes, everything is happening as it should. I have a very good feeling about this. Let’s go there now.”
It’s hard to say no to Dottie. I mean, I married myself just because she “suggested” it was a good idea. So I’m not surprised when I nod my agreement. “Okay.”
I unlock the car, and she’s sitting in the passenger seat before I even open my door. As soon as my butt’s in the seat, she hands me the Tupperware, labeled with Self-Love.
She beams at me. “It’s okay if you’d like to keep them all to yourself, dear. Once you’ve loved yourself long and well, you can think about giving your cookies to other people.”
I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds sexual, so I pointedly change the subject, asking Dottie about her granddaughter, as I tuck the Tupperware into the back seat. I start driving to The Ginger Station, and Dottie tells me a long story about her granddaughter that takes us all the way to the brewery.
Once inside, we walk up to the bar together, but Dottie peels away, gravitating toward a couple sitting at the other end.
The bartender is the same woman who was working last night, although her brunette hair is pulled back in a tidy bun today.
My cheeks flushing, I try to get her attention.
“Hi, I’m so sorry,” I say.
She raises her eyebrows. “For what?”
“I was here last night?”
Her face is still a blank slate. “And?”
I sigh “I was the one in the bridal gown who fell on the floor.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, you. Your friend put up the flyer that caused all that fuss.”
“I know. I’m sorry for that too. Sort of. He deserved it, but obviously she should have been more careful. I’m here about the bill, though. I’m so sorry we ran out without paying.”
She gives me a look that tactfully suggests I’m an idiot. “The guy you were with opened a tab. We never give out drinks without getting a card number first.”
Rob.
I don’t even consider the possibility that it might have been Otis. Because, let’s be honest, it isn’t a possibility.
A tide of emotion rushes through me, and tears spring to my eyes. It’s not just this piece of kindness from Rob. It’s that he was this kind to me when his brother, the man who was supposed to love me, treated me so poorly. My emotions are close to the surface right now, ready to well up in response to the slightest scratch.
The bartender’s eyes widen. “Uh, it’s not a big deal. You can buy him a drink another day. These things tend to even out.”
“He doesn’t drink,” I say in a strangled voice.
“You can give him some of your cookies, my dear,” Dottie says, stepping in beside me and taking my hand. “A piece of kindness at the right time, in the right place, can change a life.” Turning to the bartender, she says, “Did you know that young man—the one from the flyer, I mean—was supposed to marry this dear girl, but instead he slept with her two best friends?”
Her mouth opens. Then shuts. “ Two of your best friends?”
“Dottie,” I chide. “They weren’t my friends until after I found out.”
“You became friends with them after you found out they were sleeping with your fiancé?” the bartender asks incredulously, oblivious to another customer’s attempt to flag her down.
“They didn’t know he had a fiancée,” I say quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong idea about Hannah and Briar. “They thought he was single. He fooled all of us, and he’s still lying about it.”
A muscle at the corner of her jaw twitches. “That bastard ,” she says. “I just started here a few weeks ago, so I don’t know him, but I know the type. My ex two-timed me, and I burned his underwear in the trailer park grill. This man doesn’t deserve your tears, honey. They never do. Let yourself learn from it and move on. Move on big.”
“Oh, that’s not a bad idea,” Dottie says sunnily. “As long as he uses cotton, it’s a natural source of fuel. You could brown marshmallows over them and have a party. Do you have a key to Jonah’s apartment, dear?”
I look at her in disbelief. “No.”
I’d mailed it back to him without a note.
“Ah, oh well,” she says, sounding disappointed. “We could have planted some crystals and herbs around to help reform his character before seeing ourselves out. Maybe Rob will let us in.”
“You might be better off letting it go,” the bartender says, pouring a couple of ginger beers. “I’ve got another friend who broke into her ex’s apartment to put Nair in all of his shampoo bottles, and she got caught red-handed by the dog walker. Mind you, she ended up dating the dog walker, so it worked out okay. But he could have called the cops.”
She slides the ginger beers across the counter to us and insists they’re on the house.
“Thank you. But, uh…yeah I don’t want that to happen. Any of it,” I say. “But I’m not sure he’ll let it go. He texted me from a new phone this afternoon, saying he loved me. And last night his brother warned me that he’s planning some big gesture at the brewery where I work. I don’t know if Jonah changed his mind after last night, but?—”
The bartender’s shaking her head. “He’s one of them .”
“Them?”
“The kind who want you more when you’re not interested.”
“Yes, I’m concerned that may be the case,” Dottie says, tsk-tsking. “I haven’t wanted to trouble you with this, dear, but Bear and I had to send him away from your house the other day. It got a little heated.”
“Bear really yelled at him?” I ask. Bear is such a kind older man, I wouldn’t think him capable of it. He runs a support group in his free time and is always donating baked goods to every cause in town.
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. But I did tell him that his aura was very bleak. That might have been heavy news for him.”
The bartender laughs. “You might want to let your friend here loose with her crystals. I doubt this guy’s going to stand down easily.”
A feeling of unease creeps over my neck, but I try not to let it show. I don’t want to give Jonah that power over me.
“Oh good,” Dottie says, clapping her hands. “I have a few lovely stones in mind. If they can’t help him be decent, then nothing can.” She purses her lips in thought. “In this case, I think we’d settle for mediocre.”
I turn to the bartender, “Uh, on a related note, do you know why my ex was banned from this brewery? That’s what the bouncer said last night.”
“Bouncer?” she asks, laughing. “We don’t have a bouncer. You must be talking about Pat.”
“Is he here?” I ask warily. He looked pretty intimidating. I’m not enough of a wannabe private investigator to want to interrogate him by myself, but I have a feeling Dottie would do fine with him. She could get a stone to talk.
“No,” she says, “but I’ll find out for you.”
I consider telling her that I suspect someone who works at this brewery was also taken in by Jonah, but Dottie gives her head a firm shake. “Let’s enjoy our drinks, dear girl,” she tells me in an undertone. “Then we can call that delightful young man to pick us up. Why, we’ll make a whole afternoon of it.”
Something tells me she’s not referring to Otis.