11. Serena #2
“I’m still working on that part,” I admit quietly, less than impressed with the fact I have no direction. For a woman who’s always known her path, not having one isn’t easy.
Aurora picks up the piece of paper she’d grabbed from her purse a moment ago and holds it out. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Here. Take this.”
I probably shouldn’t be eyeing it like the scrap of what I now see is a fluorescent pink sticky note is going to bite me. “What is it?”
“A phone number.” She smiles, sarcasm dripping from the three words.
“I can see that,” I groan but still refuse to take the paper. “Whose phone number?”
“A friend of a friend.” That smile softens, and she sticks the note to my cardboard coffee cup. “Just call, Serena.”
I’m not sure if I’m annoyed she’s telling me what to do or touched that she’s trying to help me, so I settle for a happy medium. “Why are you being so secretive?”
“For fuck’s sake, Serena.” Saylor drops her cup onto the table hard enough to splash the tea onto the lid.
“Because we want you to call. We want you to be happy. We want you to stop crying. We want you eating and sleeping again. You’ve been on the verge of a panic attack for weeks.
” If they only knew. “We want to see you again and not this Stepford-Kingston who seems like she’s just going through the motions. ”
Well . . . That certainly escalated.
Saylor’s eyes widen as she realizes it too.
She glances around the coffee shop and stares down an elderly woman two tables over until she looks away.
“Sorry . . .” she murmurs, her tone softening.
“But we miss you. And Livvy seems to have her own stuff going on right now, so we figured it was our job to say something.”
I stare down at the neon sticky note stuck to my cup until I peel it off. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all we’re asking,” Aurora tells me triumphantly.
“Liar.” I smile. That’s not winning, and Aurora hates to accept anything less than winning.
“Whatever . . . I want you to call. But if you were completely against it, you wouldn’t have said you’d think about it. You’re not a liar. So I’ll take it. For now. Remember, we just want you to be happy.”
I hate this . . . I hate that they think I’m unhappy.
Not because they’re wrong but because that means I’m doing a shit job of hiding it.
“And while we’re on the topic of you happy.” Saylor’s eyes sparkle with chaos hiding behind her icy-blue irises. “What the hell is going on with you and Rafe Langley?”
“What?” I laugh—actually laugh. “You had me until you said Rafe, Saylor.”
“Listen, you know you can’t hide anything in this town, and there are rumors . . .” Aurora tugs the pink bag of chocolate chip cookies her way and pulls one triumphantly out before Saylor smacks her hand. “Rumors that you’re taking him to the wedding this weekend.”
“I RSVP’d last night. How fast did that phone tree work?” I look between them and decide I’d rather have a cookie than a cupcake and steal the one from Aurora’s hand.
Sucker.
“Guys, seriously. I was supposed to be bringing these home,” Saylor chastises as she pulls the bag out of reach.
“We live together,” Aurora huffs while Saylor clutches the bag to her chest.
“Whatever . . .” Saylor argues, keeping a tight hold on the bag. “The phone tree was activated when you responded that he was your plus-one. Pretty sure at that point, Ryker’s mom texted the Kingston group chat, asking who he is.”
“I didn’t see it,” I push back, and Saylor shakes her head.
“Oh, you sweet summer child. Not the whole family chat. The siblings chat. Dad texted me asking why you and Livvy were both bringing Nobles players. Which, by the way, was news to me. Since when is Livvy seeing Rafe Langley’s brother?”
Oh shit.
Not good.
No one in the family knows anything about Livvy and Logan yet.
Jesus. When did our family become so good at lying to each other?
“How do you even know who they are?” Pretty sure I know the answer, but I ask anyway.
If nothing else, it’ll earn me a few extra minutes to come up with an answer.
“Some of us actually love hockey, Serena.” Saylor crosses her legs as she leans back. “Of course I know who they are. I know my dad has had his eye on Rafe Langley for a while. I also know Rafe’s on Dad’s short list of players he’d like to get. Kind of like Hendrix Sinclair was.”
Shit.
Of course it swings back to him.
“Well . . . There’s nothing going on with Rafe and me. He’s just a friend.”
She nods as Aurora stands. “I’m getting more cookies. Does anyone need anything?”
We both shake our heads and watch as she makes her way to the bakery case. “I swear she’s got the metabolism of a five-year-old.”
Saylor kicks me under the table with the pointy edge of her shoe. “You know, I also heard you and Hendrix were talking outside the locker room earlier this week.”
My stomach drops, and there goes the cupcake.
“Your brother has a big goddamn mouth,” I groan, knowing that’s exactly who she heard that from. Cohen gave me a look the other night as he was leaving the arena. One that wordlessly asked if I was okay.
Saylor’s smile is instantaneous. “He does. He also mentioned that you two looked . . . close.”
“I haven’t seen him in years, Saylor.” And just like that, I’ve lost my appetite.
“So you said. But here’s my question . . . Why are you going to the wedding with Rafe—as friends—if Hendrix is home and you’re both finally single?”
“How about because his wife just died,” I snap, ready for this conversation to end.
“Nope. I don’t buy it.”
“I don’t care what you buy. It’s the truth,” I try, ignoring the way the coffee shop grows warmer and quieter, like I’m in a tunnel. A small one. “He has a little boy who lost his mother. He moved home for help, not a replacement. We’re not in a rom-com.”
“That’s . . . Shit, Serena.” Her face pales, and my throat closes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” I finally tell her once I find my voice again. “But that’s how it is.”