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.
“Now. Let’s talk about sex ed, baby. Because that’s the hot topic for Elle.”
I bark out a laugh, falling back in my chair and taking my napkin with me to cover my mouth. “Yes. Help!”
After that, things get easier. Sort of. There are no more questions about David or me. I get used to the loud commentary of her friends. The multiple bottles of wine being poured aids in that. Aaron sticks close to my side, engaging me in conversation for most of the evening. And I’ll be honest. He is engaging. Smart and quick-witted.
And when he offers to drive me home, after my second glass of wine, I let him. I give him the chance Bridget suggested I give. I even allow him to walk me to my door and wait behind me while I unlock and open it up. I turn to face him, staring into his brown eyes.
He’s adorable.
A guy I would totally crush on if I didn’t have such a stupid heart.
“Can I call you?”
He steps in, his hand wrapping around my lower back, his lips drawing close.
“I… Aaron, you’re great…”