Chapter 8
Val
I glance at Jackie, then Fran. Something’s happened between them. Judging by the sour look on Jackie’s face and the affronted expression on Fran’s, they’re arguing again. I drop my spoon and place my bowl on the coffee table.
“All right, enough of the sulking. What happened?” I fold my arms.
“Jackie said—”
“Fran always—”
My sisters stop, glaring at each other as if to say How dare you speak when I am? It’s the same ol’ song and dance, just a different day and time. I rub my forehead, holding back a sigh. Lord, please give me wisdom.
“Fran, how about you go first,” I suggest.
“Why does she get to go first?” Jackie whines.
I channel the same expression our mom pointed in our direction when we were growing up. Jackie clamps her mouth shut, but her sour expression has somehow worsened. She’ll turn into a prune if she keeps that up.
“Fran?” I ask softly.
Her gaze darts to Jackie’s before she speaks. “I wanted to sign a client in hopes that Dad would see how hard I’ve been working.”
Makes sense. Fran often feels like she gets the short end of the stick being the youngest. But try being the middle child everyone overlooks until they need something done by her. Not your turn to whine, Val. Right.
“Did you already have a client in mind?” I study Fran.
“Yeah, mine,” Jackie snarls.
My neutral expression fades as lines across my forehead pop out. “Who?”
“Alvin Reynolds,” Fran states. “I had no idea he was already speaking to Jackie when I approached him or else I wouldn’t have.” She finishes through gritted teeth.
I arch a brow at Jackie. “Is Alvin already your client?”
“Not technically.” She shifts in her seat. “But we’ve been speaking for the last month.”
“Who else knew that?”
Jackie blows out a breath. Just as I thought. No one. Which means she doesn’t have the right to be mad at Fran. We all work in the same agency, but my sisters are completely cutthroat, even toward each other.
“Did you sign him, Fran?” I stare at my younger sister.
She nods reluctantly.
Jackie groans. “All that hard work for nothing.”
“Maybe next time share with your sister so you don’t accidentally poach each other’s potential clients,” I advise, picking up my spoon once again.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Jackie mumbles.
“You have to know I would never do that intentionally. I’m so sorry,” Fran says.
“Come here, sissy.”
Their overly affectionate display makes me want to gag. Do they really mean it, or do they just assume I’ll make them hug and make up like Mom always does?
My thoughts turn to Mom, who’s currently living it up somewhere in the Caribbean. She loves taking long vacations, but I’m ready for her to come back to DC. I miss her. She’s the only one who listens to me.
“Val!” Fran shouts.
I startle, almost dropping the bowl. “Good grief, I’m right here. You don’t have to yell.”
“Yeah, well, you were zoned out, and she called your name a couple of times before shouting,” Jackie says. She smiles and takes a big scoop of her food.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about Mom.”
“Did you see her latest post? I think she’s in Antigua right now.”
“Oh yeah?” I need to check her socials.
“Now that the tension has cleared, let’s talk about Valentine’s Day.” Fran sing-songs the holiday, a mischievous glint entering her light brown eyes.
Ugh. Why does she have to bring that up? I can’t lie to my sisters. Yet how can I tell Jackie I went out with her ex . . . unintentionally? She’ll go right back to looking like she sucked on a Cry Baby.
“It was . . .” I search for the right word. “Eventful.”
Both Jackie’s and Fran’s faces scrunch up.
“Eventful?” Jackie huffs. “What on earth does that mean?”
“I mean, it was a blind date, right?” Fran shrugs as if that sums everything up.
“Oh, sweetie, was it awful?” Jackie stretchers her hand across from where she sits catty-corner and lays her palm on top of my hand. “I’m so sorry.”
My mouth opens, shuts, and opens once more. Don’t lie. Just tell them the truth. Now, before you lose your nerve.
“Itwaswithhim.” My words stumble together as my heart drums in my ears.
“Who?” Fran raises her brows.
“What did she say?” Jackie asks at the same time.
“She said ‘it was with him,’ but who is him?”
I drop my head into my hands and let out a sigh. “Raimo set me up with him.” My head pops up to give a pointed look at Jackie.
Fran gasps. “That him?”
I nod slowly.
“Can someone give me a clue because I’m out of them?” Jackie waves a hand in the air.
Fran snorts. “He-Who-Won’t-Be-Named.”
All color leaches from Jackie’s face.
Oh boy. I sit back, waiting for the explosions. But all she does is blink. Okay, maybe explosions are more palatable to the building tension her silence brings.
“What are you saying, Val?”
I do not like the quiet tone to Jackie’s voice. My mouth dries while I figure out a delicate way for her to understand and for her to realize I had no idea that would happen.
“Raimo convinced me to go on a blind date. Said I needed a hockey player because they were the best guys.”
Fran and Jackie scoff.
“After a few texts of him and Steff nagging, I agreed.” How can you say no when you’re being cajoled on a daily basis?
“Wow. He got Steff in on it?” Fran chuckles.
“Exactly. I caved.” I throw my hands up. “I showed up and was stunned to see Jabari on the other side of the table.” Which is a huge understatement I’m sure my sisters can track with.
“Jabari!” Anger darkens Jackie’s face. “You’re calling him by name?”
“I mean, I thought we were only doing that He-Who-Won’t-Be-Named after you first learned he cheated. It’s been ten years.” Do I sound like I’m making excuses or being factual?
“Raimo never told you? Never gave you a hint? Nothing?” Jackie spits out.
“Nothing. I promise. I would’ve said no had I known.” Now it’s my turn to lean forward to offer comfort, only Jackie jerks back.
Her expression is closed off. I don’t know if she’s absorbing and processing all the information or something else.
“Did you make a second date?” she asks.
“No! Of course I didn’t.” A voice in the back of my mind reminds me I did give Jabari my phone number. He’d resembled a little boy whose favorite pet had died. No way I could’ve walked away without offering some comfort . . . right?
“Fine. I guess it wasn’t your fault.”
Relief liquefies my bones into a puddle as I sink deep into my sofa cushions.
“Just don’t ever speak to him again.”
My breath hitches. “Right, no more dates.” Why does it feel like I’m mentally crossing two fingers behind my back?
I’m not lying, yet omitting the fact I gave him my number feels very much like a lie.
But you promised Jabari you wouldn’t share about his diagnosis.
I just need to keep quiet, even if the guilt eats at me.
We switch topics, and soon Jackie’s up and ready to go back home to her adorable family. I happily shut the door behind her, then wander into the kitchen.
Fran turns off the water. “I did the dishes.”
“Oh, I was coming in here to do them.”
“I wasn’t doing anything, so I took care of it.”
Fran’s acting weird lately. Helping out around the house, not going out. But it’s not like I can point a finger. What would I say? Stop helping? It’s not like she’s acting unstable. More like . . . maturing.
“Thanks, Fran.”
“Now, shoo.” She flings her hands at me. “Go read a book or talk to your plants, or whatever it is you do in your room.” She shakes her head at me.
How about all of the above? I give her a hug, then move down the hall toward my side of the condo.
“Hey, baby.” I smile at the Thai constellation monstera that’s to the left of the doorway as I enter my room.
Talking to plants makes them happy, and because of that, they reward me by growing more.
After saying hello to each and every plant in my room, I plop onto my bed, ready to grab my book and continue reading.
Instead, my phone pings with a notification, halting my plans.
I open the text, squinting at the unknown number.
Hey, Val, it’s Jabari. You said I could reach out if I needed to talk. You have a minute?
My mouth falls open. Is this for real? I never seriously thought he’d text. Lord, what do I do? Didn’t I just tell Jackie I wouldn’t talk to him again?
Is texting technically talking?
Ugh, I hate semantics. But also, curiosity is brimming inside of me.
Hey, what’s up?
I quickly save his contact info.
My mom is coming for a visit next week.
That doesn’t sound like a bad thing, but his choice of emoji sure hints that it is.
Why is that bad?
She deals with depression. Has since I could remember. I don’t want my diagnosis to make it worse. She’s been relatively good for the past few months.
“Wow,” I whisper.
That’s so heavy. How long has his own well-being taken a backseat to his mom’s? How will his disease affect her state of mind? I bite my lip.
Does she know?
She made me tell her. I haven’t stopped worrying since I hung up with her.
“Poor guy.” My heart aches for him. He really does need a confidant.
I’ll be praying for her and you. Is there anything I can do?
I’m not much on prayer, but I appreciate that you want to help. Honestly, just being able to tell another person my worries makes the burden feel lighter.
Good. I’m glad. You can text me anytime.
I wince. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have extended the olive branch so easily. What will Jackie say when she finds out? But Jabari’s going through a lot right now. Ugh, this feels totally like an angel versus devil-on-the-shoulder moment. Still, doesn’t Jesus tell us to help those in trouble?
Is an occasional phone call entirely out of the question?
Hm. Is it? I don’t mind a good phone conversation from time to time, but I also don’t want my sisters to hear us.
I’m not sure.
Wait, how are you texting?
A groan tears from me. How insensitive is that question?
Talk to text. I downloaded a vision-impaired software to help me out.
How are you navigating everything? Do you need help in the house?
My fingers hit send before I can take back my question. Val Elliott, you cannot ask that. Are you going to offer to be his maid next? Cook his meals? Iron his clothes?
Ridiculous. He probably already has a maid and chef.
I’m all good, but thanks for being concerned.
That’s what friends do.
Wait? Am I really claiming friendship with my sister’s nemesis?
“What is wrong with you, Val?” I muffle a scream into my pillow.