6. Paige #3
“Oh, you don’t?” I let out a sardonic laugh that feels unusual exiting my mouth. “I guess thirty-year-olds living with their mothers do so from the good of their hearts.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t have to know.” I point a finger at his chest. “I just don’t want my father to be a victim of your mother’s schemes.”
His eyes widen with shock, but his jaw quickly clenches, shifting from left to right. “Here I was, thinking that we could be friends. But then you go and decide to act like a dick.”
My cheeks heat as if he slapped me. He’s not wrong, but it still sucks to be called out like that. Not waiting for an apology, he turns on his heel and returns to where the others are sitting.
There’s no doubt I took it too far. Seeing him again, realizing he was Kim’s son, learning about the engagement, and then Jordan’s outburst—it was simply too much to maintain my perfectly curated emotional regulation. It also scratched on some old wounds from my childhood.
By the time I join them, Emma and Jordan have grabbed their jackets, and they’re saying their goodbyes. I do the same, since they’re my ride, and throw the light jacket I brought with me over my shoulders. With an awkward wave to Kim and Dad, I leave the restaurant, catching up to the girls.
My heels click on the pavement while I rush to the car. “What happened?”
“Jordan apologized,” Emma tells me, entering the car.
“She can actually do that?” I act shocked, earning a glare from Jordan.
Emma, on the other hand, chuckles.
“I know I was out of line,” Jordan says, backing out of the parking lot.
The sunset casts soft hues over the horizon, making for a gorgeous drive home. It’s one of the things I love most about Fig Bay. There are no skyscrapers to obstruct your view.
Jordan releases a sigh before continuing, “We joked about it before… But I really didn’t expect another engagement.”
“And she didn’t win the bet,” Emma adds.
Jordan shakes her head. “And I didn’t win the bet.” We’re both notoriously competitive, but that is not the reason for her reaction.
“If it makes you feel better…” I inhale deeply. “I had an outburst of my own in the bathroom.”
“At whom?” Emma looks back at me.
“The son—Ryan…I might have suggested to him that both he and his mother are after Dad’s money.”
Emma hisses. “You did not! I expected that from this one”—she points a thumb at her wife—“but you?”
I shrug, a flush painting my face. “I’m not proud of it. But when she started talking about the house…” I look away. “It reminded me of Tiffany.”
Tiffany was wife number two and a calculated gold digger.
Jordan and I were teens when she was around, and her ways left a sour taste in our mouths.
She’d act all lovey-dovey in front of Dad, but when he wasn’t around, she’d be a total bitch toward us.
In the end, she ended up taking the house Jordan and I grew up in.
Dad had enough money to fight her for it, but he was so heartbroken he didn’t even try.
Jordan and I spent many nights plotting petty revenges that we eventually grew out of.
“I can’t believe I’m the only reasonable one,” Emma comments.
“Really? Because I thought it was pretty obvious,” Jordan answers with a smirk, and Emma slaps her shoulder playfully.
“But seriously…are you two okay?”
I’m the first one to respond. “We’re adults. We kind of have to be.”
“What she said,” Jordan agrees.
“At least you get a stepbrother out of it,” Emma jokes, making my face scrunch.
“EUGH.” Something about her calling Ryan my stepbrother rises the bile in my throat.
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Jordan quips. Of course he’s cute, but she hasn’t found a boy cute since primary school, so I’m guessing it’s a taunt aimed at me.
“About that… remember that cute delivery driver who delivered all those vibrators to me?” My throat burns with embarrassment. “And that giant tentacle dildo afterwards.” I don’t have to see their faces to know Emma’s eyes are wide as saucers. “It might have been Ryan.”
“No fucking way,” Jordan deadpans, her head turning back.
Emma turns in slow motion, with a wide-open mouth, excitement shooting out of her eyes. I practically see the wheels in her mind spinning. “He’s the cute delivery guy?” she whispers. “This makes much more sense.”
“What does?”
“It must be fate,” she states, as if saying that the sky is blue. “Roger’s sudden engagement makes much more sense now.” They say every couple needs a dreamer and a realist. Guess which one Emma is?
My lips purse. “Roger is a man obsessed with anything resembling love, and probably weddings. That’s the reason for his latest engagement.”
“Could be.” She shrugs. “But Kim’s nothing like the women he typically dates, so it might be fate, too.”
“Doubt it.”
Jordan pulls into my driveway, and I use the chance to say goodbye and make a quick escape. The door slams harder than I intended it to, my mind still hazy from everything that happened tonight.
Even though my life is an absolute mess, one thing is certain: my columns are finally back to writing themselves.