“Tell him we said ‘hi’ back,” Trista instructs, earning a bewildered look from both me and Zoe. “Come on, Phoebs, trust me. What do you have to lose?”
“Nothing.” Everything.
“Tris, we need to get going.” Brian’s baritone voice carries from somewhere in the giant fancy hotel room before he pops onto the screen. I see his chocolate-colored hair is a bit too long though his beard is still well-kept, and his caramel eyes gleam with joy. He’s looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in years. “Hey, all my favorite girls.” He smiles at us, and I can’t help but grin back.
“I still can’t believe Mikey upgraded you to the honeymoon suite,” Zoe ruminates. “We haven’t even gone on a honeymoon, and we’re actually married!”
I’m about to ask B and T about the undeciphered look they just shared when I’m distracted by a clamor from Zoe’s kitchen.
“That’s your fault!” Mac yells from somewhere in the background.
“I have a deadline on my paper, it’s a career changer!” Zoe calls back and rolls her eyes before turning back to the screen and whispering. “Don’t tell, but I bought us tickets to Mexico. We leave right after I hand in my paper.”
“That’s awesome!” I quietly clap my hands, mimicking Trista.
“Okay, we really have to go!” Trista blows us kisses, and Brian waves.
“No!” I waggle my finger. “Not until you help me choose an outfit for tomorrow.”
“Isn’t it a professional meeting?” Zoe leans back with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s still dinner in a fancy restaurant on Saturday night,” I try to rationalize.
“With Andy,” Zoe reminds me.
“And his lawyer!” I defend.
“So, you want to dress up for his lawyer?” Trista barely hides her snicker.
“Oh my God, shut up.”
“Are we talking make-you-want-me sexy or look-what-you-gave-up-you-damn-fool sexy?” Zoe wonders, and Trista can’t hold back her laughter anymore.
“Nope, I refuse to take part in this conversation.” Brian shudders with a grimace and disappears from the screen.
“Do you think I should do sexy?” I fight the urge to bite my nails.
“I don’t know,” Trista observes, her demeanor turning serious. “I think it would force Andy to confront a lot of issues between the two of you if you did.”
“I know you feel you have to, but do you really want to revisit the past?” Zoe asks with a sigh. “I’m not sure it would be beneficial for you to open old wounds.”
“They never closed,” I admit for the first time, more to myself than to anyone else.
“Then do what you gotta do, babe,” Zoe surmises. “Just make sure you’re willing to see it through no matter how the dice rolls.”
“I am,” I assure her. “I’m sick of being stuck in the past, of being trapped in memories. I’m ready to close that chapter of my life and move on.” With Andy or without him, I finish in my mind, not wanting to voice my biggest source of confusion—that despite all my anger, I can’t tell which one of the options I want.
“Can we go now?” Brian calls from somewhere in the background.
“Yes, go, have fun.” I wave at Trista.
“Bye.” Both Zoe and Trista wave back, and we all log off.
“Clusterfuck,” I mutter once I’m sure everyone is offline. “There’s only one way this can end. You should walk away before shit hits the fan, Jenkins.”
I sit on that thought for a few minutes before getting up from my chair with a sigh, walking to my closet, and starting to pull out a selection of dresses.
“Absolute, utter, unavoidable, clusterfuck.”
Andy
“Would you stop that?” Gabe indicates my bouncing knee.
“What are you so bitchy about?” I glare at him, and Gabe just shrugs, focusing his gaze at the entrance to the Italian restaurant Phoebe chose for our meeting, a pinkish hue spreading on his neck. “Oh my God, you’re scared of her!”
I can’t stop the bout of laughter rising from my chest, and Gabe punches my arm in response.
“You’re an…” Gabe trails off, gaping in the direction of the front entrance. I follow his gaze, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupts in my chest. “Dude, you just moaned.”
“Not ashamed,” I admit with a shrug, my entire focus on Phoebe walking our way, wearing a burgundy dress that hugs her toned body in all the right ways but still looks entirely proper and professional, her dark hair, still the color that reminds me of Coca Cola, cascading down her back in soft curls and her eyes a gray storm, the only thing disclosing the emotional turmoil she’s in.
“Andy, Mr. Walsh.” Phoebe nods our direction as she approaches the table, and I jump to my feet, pulling out the chair across from me.
I bend down to whisper when I push the chair for her to sit, “You’re still the most stunning human being I have ever laid eyes on, Phoebe.” A tremor courses through Phoebe’s body, and I force myself to move away.
“Thank you,” she replies, a blush creeping over her olive skin.
“I’d prefer you called me Gabe, or at least Gabriel.” Gabe kicks me under the table when I take my seat next to him.
“Gabe,” she tests the name and smiles. “It suits you. You have any siblings, Gabe?”
“A younger brother, Nathaniel, Nate.” I feel Gabe’s posture relax, and he even smiles. “You?”
“An older brother, Brian, but he’s just six months older, so we’re practically like twins.” Phoebe leans back and picks up the menu.
“Six months? How did that happen?” Gabe wonders.
“Our parents adopted him when my mom was three months pregnant with me,” Phoebe explains, flagging down the waitress. “You boys know what you want, or am I ordering for you?”
“Go ahead.” I shrug with a grin and lean forward. “I was always bad at deciding what to order.”
“I want the salmon,” Gabe informs us both with an eye roll and a heavy sigh. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the men’s room.”
Phoebe and I sit in silence for a couple of minutes, interrupted only by the waitress taking our order, Phoebe pointing at items on the menu without naming them, and me fighting the urge to lean forward and catch her hands in mine.
“The girls said to tell you hi back,” Phoebe finally blurts out, and my heart thuds.
“Yeah?” It’s the only thing I can seem to verbalize, and Phoebe nods.
“I, uh, wasn’t sure if I should tell you, but it seemed like you’d want to know.”
“I do,” I hurry to reassure her. “How are they? You told me Trista was in China, what’s she doing there?”
“That’s a long story,” Phoebe replies, a soft smile playing on her lips, and I sense there’s a lot she isn’t up to telling me yet.
“And Zoe?” I prod her.
“Zoe is living the life in Boston,” Phoebe’s smile widens. “With her husband.”
“No fucking way!” I gawk. “Zoe got married?”