Chapter 19
T he kitchen smells like heaven, and I find my friend standing over a roasted pork loin, slicing it up into perfect equal pieces. “You’re such a bitch,” I start, and Bridget smiles, wholly unrepentant.
“I’ve been called worse.”
“You were supposed to send Roger. Not a strange dude to pick me up.”
“Roger was busy.”
“Right. So that’s why Aaron said you set this whole thing up, and he thinks it’s a date?”
Bridget huffs at me, setting down the electric knife. “Go over and grab those rolls out of the oven before they burn, would ya?”
I slip on the oven mitts that are on the counter and retrieve the rolls that are perfectly golden brown. Another second and they’d be hockey pucks. I set them on the counter, then take it upon myself to drop them into the cloth-lined breadbasket.
“You needed a date.”
“I did not need a date. We talked about this. I’m working on me.”
She rolls her eyes while plating the meat on the platter. “While falling in love with your neighbor.”
“I’m not falling in love with him.” Not really anyway. “Subsequently he saw us leave.”
That piques her interest as her head pops up, her brown eyes growing rounder. “He did, huh?”
“It’s a mess, Bridge. A mess. All of this is.
David called tonight before your arm candy came and picked me up.
The things he told me…” I trail off, shaking my head, my stomach roiling as I think about our conversation.
My parents and twin sister set up my husband for blackmail.
How do I make sense of that? I legit don’t know.
“More threats and abuse?”
“No. He knows it’s over. It was about my parents and Cat.”
“Fucking assholes,” she grumbles as she tosses the roasted vegetables with salt and pepper before pouring them all onto a serving dish around the pork.
“You’ll tell me everything later?” She checks, and I nod.
“Don’t let them get wind of who your neighbor is.
Billions trump millions any day, and they’ll be all over Dr. Fritz in no time flat. ”
Yet another reason I should stay away from Landon. Those reasons are mounting faster than a champion food eater scarfing down hotdogs.
“I like him, and I wish I didn’t, and then you sent this cute guy to pick me up, and Landon was there, and he and I are already…”
She looks up, tongs poised in her hand.
“I just… I need a breather, you know? I need a moment to think and get my head on straight. It’s like life is coming at me from all sides, and I don’t have the right racquet to swing and smack it away with.”
“What?”
“Shut up. Pretend like that made sense and be my friend.”
“Okay.” She holds up a consolatory hand. “But Aaron is drama-free and totally stable and normal for whatever that’s worth.”
“Knock it off. Whatever you’re trying to do, please stop now.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t try to set you up again. But keep an open mind about Aaron. He’s… normal.”
“When has normal ever been something I liked?”
“That football player you dated sophomore year was normal.”
I snicker. “He was not. He was the quarterback. He plays professional football now.”
“You clearly have a type. How does Landon fit into that?”
I think on that for a second before lifting my head in her direction. “Maybe because he’s the opposite of that? I mean, he’s tall and built like a tank. But… he’s smarter. Rigid and unrelenting one second and yet so soft and tender the next. Especially with Stella. I think my type is my problem.”
“And now you’re in love with a famous billionaire. A broken single dad doctor. You’re a Lifetime Original Movie waiting to happen, and I do not mean that in a good way.”
I get her meaning and then some, and I sag, dropping my elbows to her counter while Bridget puts the finishing touches on dinner.
“I’m not getting together with him. I just don’t want to get together with anyone else.”
“Fine. I get it.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I do, and I’ll back off on setting you up. Let’s go eat before my masterpiece gets cold.”
The dining room is filled with Bridget’s people.
Aaron, of course. Bridget’s husband, Roger.
Two of Bridget’s friends, Brenda and Mariel, from her book club, and five people who work at the school along with their spouses.
I see why she set me up with Aaron. Everyone is here with their spouses or significant others, except for Aaron and me.
“Red or white?” Aaron asks, his eyes chocolaty brown and warm like a freshly baked cookie. He’s cute. For a lawyer. But he played ball in college. I can already tell that, though I know zero about him. Clearly, I do have a type. The professional athlete type.
“Red, please.”
He pours me a glass of Malbec and takes the seat beside me, dropping his arm over the back of my chair and leaning in close. “Bridget said you cheered for the University of Miami’s football team.”
Yup. I called it.
“I did. Did you play?”
“Michigan. QB1.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “And you didn’t go pro?”
“My senior year, I blew out my knee. Dropped me back to the fourth round of the draft. I played for two years in Minnesota but never made it off the bench. I retired and went to law school instead. But I bet we were on opposite sides of the field together at one point though I believe I’m older than you by a couple of years. ”
“Probably,” I agree.
“All right, everyone. Let’s eat.” Bridget sets the final dish down on the large dining room table before lifting her wineglass and holding it out.
“In honor of my best friend moving to town, how about we toast to new friends? Welcome to Wilchester, Elle. We’re so happy to have you as part of our team and part of our town. ”
I blush a tomato shade of red, holding my own glass up. “Thank you so much, Bridget. That truly means everything. I would not be here without you.” I laugh lightly. “It’s been a whirlwind since moving here, but it’s also been so special meeting y’all. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” they all say, taking sips of whatever they’re drinking.
“So tell me, Elle,” Bridget’s friend Mariel starts as she polishes off her half-full glass of wine in one large gulp. “Is it true you’re married to that professional golfer, David Chambers?”
I choke on my sip of wine.
“You’re married ? To David Chambers? The golfer?” That’s Aaron.
“Didn’t he win The Masters this year?” some random husband whose name I don’t remember asks. “I heard those guys pull in several million a tournament. Plus all their endorsements. Is that true?”
“He’s so handsome,” Brenda, the other woman from the book club I haven’t met yet, states. “And obviously rich. If you’re married to him, why are you here with Aaron?”
“I read in Intertainment that she left him. Probably because he was stepping out on her,” Caroline—a fellow teacher, I might add—hisses under her breath—and not quietly—at Brenda.
“I heard he hit her,” Emily, another fellow teacher, retorts, and Caroline gasps, covering her mouth with her hand, and that’s when everyone stops talking for approximately three seconds while they stare at me expectantly. Probably checking me for a black eye they somehow missed.
“Zip it, Emily. You’re making up rumors you know nothing about.”
“If you have the inside scoop, Bridget, why don’t you tell us?”
I shake my head, staring down at my plate as I shuffle food around with my fork.
“I’m not married to David anymore. We’re divorced.
” I raise my eyes and narrow in on Emily.
“But David never hit me. I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, but that’s not true.
” No, he was just a lying, belligerent asshole who allowed himself to be blackmailed by my greedy parents and crazy sister and grow resentful. Can this night please end?
“So you’re divorced? As in single?” Aaron presses, shifting closer to me and staring earnestly into the side of my face.
I nod and catch his triumphant grin. At least someone’s happy.
This feels more like the small town in Texas I grew up in.
A place where no one knows how to mind their own damn business and gossip is a bigger sport than football and shooting.
Not like New England where people are notoriously toted as cold and indifferent.
Right now, I’d certainly welcome the latter.
“Are you back on the market then?” That’s Mariel, her gaze casting from Aaron to me in one swift, fluid motion. “One man’s loss is another’s gain.”
I lick my suddenly dry lips, lifting my water glass and taking a hasty sip. I should have expected this. I don’t know why I didn’t. I assumed I’d get a question or two, but nothing like this.
“No.” I meet her gaze head-on. “I’m not interested in dating right now.
” I set my glass down and raise my head high, refusing to cower or let them know they got to me.
My reasons, my life, my choices are my own, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone here make me feel bad about them.
But of course, my simple response only brings on a new set of back and forth.
“But why did you leave him if he didn’t hit you?” That’s Brenda again. “He’s so handsome. And rich.”
Thank you. I believe you already made that point.
“Divorce is a sin,” Mariel hisses, again trying for under her breath and not achieving it by a mile.
“Last I checked, so is gossiping and lying.” I raise an eyebrow, but she just grins back at me. I want to roll my eyes at everyone here but settle for taking another bite of something on my plate. I couldn’t tell you what it is.
“Is that what I’m doing?” she retorts. “Because from what I read—”
“Oh, can it, Mariel,” Bridget snaps. “According to you, everything is a sin, and last time I checked, you’re in no place to throw stones. You’re just being a bitch, and I’m in no mood for it. Besides, this is Massachusetts, not Kentucky.”
“But that’s where I’m from.”
“I’m aware. And if you’re going to be judgmental over a situation you know nothing about, then maybe you should go back there.”
I offer Bridget a grateful smile, and she winks back at me.