Chapter Eighteen Everleigh
Chapter Eighteen
Everleigh
I swallow a bite of my blueberry Danish and shrug.
“Things are going great. I dropped my mom off at the airport this morning. Yesterday, I found an acreage on which to build a barndominium. And I’m having brunch with friends.
How are things going with you?” I hold my breath and study their reactions to the word friends, hoping I’m correct in making that assumption.
I don’t have many friends. If they’re open to a bestie threesome, I might just squeal.
Jamie and Maren exchange a look with hesitant smiles. Maybe I’m rushing the bestie threesome scenario.
“That’s great to hear. I’ve seen some cool barndominiums on Instagram,” Jamie says, curling her black hair behind her ear. “When will it be completed?”
“Oh.” I blot my mouth with a napkin. “I don’t know yet. I meet with the Realtor on Monday. And I’m doing most of the interior myself, well, maybe with Will’s help. So I’m not sure how long it will take. Could be a year or two.”
Jamie’s grin stiffens, like she’s afraid to move, while Maren coughs on her espresso.
“So.” Maren clears her throat. “You’re doing the interior construction on your new place, and Will said he’d help you?”
“Ladies.” I playfully flick my wrist and bat my eyelashes.
“What is the saying? Oh, yes. Real queens fix each other’s crowns.
Maren, I would never question your ability as a woman to fly a tanker plane.
And Jamie, you know I’ve always liked you.
I would never imply that a girl who didn’t leave Florida until her twenties is not good enough to land a guy like Calvin Fitzgerald.
So, let’s just focus on lifting each other up.
You have no reason to believe I can’t install a cabinet or hang a lighting fixture, unless you’re suggesting it’s not something a woman can do? ”
They slowly shake their heads, postures deflating.
Oh, no! Am I losing them?
“And Will hasn’t agreed to help me yet, but I think he’ll cave soon. And I’d love help choosing colors, cabinet styles, lighting fixtures, if either or both of you would like to do that with me. We could make it a whole thing. Shopping. Lunch. My treat, of course.”
Chill.
I have no middle ground. Either I’m a doctor in character, saying all the things I know I should say, or I’m a twelve-year-old girl meeting friends in the neighborhood, hoping they’ll play with me even though I just started college and they’re still learning how to multiply decimals.
“So things between you and Will are good?” Jamie asks.
I want to let down my guard and tell them I’ve been in love with Will since I was seventeen.
But I don’t know if I can trust them because they’re Will’s friends, not mine—yet.
So I play the game because that’s what this is, a game between Will and me.
Maren and Jamie are spectators—Team William—until I win them over.
“There’s a lot of sexual tension,” I say.
“But we went out the other night to a bar and then IHOP. The night before that, we played his PlayStation until the wee hours. We’re taking it slow.
There’s a lot of unresolved feelings, and I have to earn his trust again.
That will take time and a lot of patience.
Support from our friends, like you, will help too. ”
Again, I watch their reaction to our friends.
Jamie and Maren study me with blank expressions. What does that mean?
“What makes you think Will has unresolved feelings?” Jamie asks, a true student of the psychiatric profession. Doesn’t she know I don’t want to be Doctor Reichart on a Saturday morning?
“Well.” I sigh, indulging her for a moment. “My mother painted me—naked, of course. And Will snuck into the bedroom to look at the painting.”
Maren wrinkles her nose while biting her bottom lip.
“Yesterday, I was taking a shower, and the door didn’t get completely shut. When I glanced up while shaving my armpit, Will was watching me.”
Jamie drops her face into her hands, rubbing her forehead while mumbling, “Are you serious?”
“I wasn’t bothered by it. I had my own Peeping Tom incident when we met years ago. I’d say he wasn’t looking at anything he hadn’t already seen, but that’s not true. I didn’t have my implants back then.”
Jamie’s gaze drops to my chest. “I didn’t know you had breast augmentation. Whoever did it did a nice job.”
I blush. “Thanks. I think so too.”
“Do you worry about them leaking?” Maren asks.
“No. I mean, I know it’s a possibility, but worrying about it won’t prevent it.”
“Well”—Maren rolls her eyes—“I’m sure Will loves them. He’s a breast guy.”
Jamie snickers. “Fitz is too. I think all men are.”
When they laugh, I join in because, for the first time since we arrived, I feel included, not scrutinized. This is it. We’re friends. Let the bestie threesome begin.
“Are you close with your father?” Jamie asks, pouring ice water on our cozy friendship.
“You think I’m interested in Will because he’s older? A father figure?”
She shakes her head, yet shrugs as if that might be what she’s implying.
“Fitz is older than you.” I stop short of asking if she has daddy issues because we know that answer. She grew up without him and learned some pretty shocking things about his past.
“He is,” Jamie says with a brave smile, like she’s fine with me talking about her father.
Maren clears her throat, nervously fiddling with the ends of her blond hair that’s pulled over one shoulder. “Has Will met your father?”
“No,” I say, glancing down at my drink.
“Have you told your father about your past relationship with Will?” Maren prods.
“I was thinking of going with modern decor for my barndo, but I’ve seen some really cool designs on Pinterest that incorporate reclaimed wood. So now I’m leaning in that direction. What do you think?”
Maren and Jamie share a look. I fear this bestie threesome is not happening today.