Page 59 of The Jellybean Dilemma

Gina’s advice echoed in my head. I needed to know what I wanted to do with my life, be it charity work or a job or what, then go after it. I’m Rhonda fucking Elgin, after all. I was known for my drive, my go get ’em attitude.

I just needed to figure out what I wanted to go get. That was the dilemma. My shoulders sagged a bit, and I sighed, then dried my hands on a paper towel before walking out of the bathroom door.

For now, do I go back to the table and face the Harry inquisition? Or find Greg? I scanned the crowd, finding my date not too far away, talking with a small crowd of people our age. He seemed the logical choice, and I could avoid more questions from Harry that I didn’t have the answers to.

I snagged another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, then wove my way to Greg’s group. They were all laughing as I came up behind him.

He was obviously in the middle of a story, and he continued, “And after we get done singing happy birthday to Derek, they come in. She always has to make an entrance.” He shook his head.

His words had me frozen, mid-step. This time I had no doubt he was talking about me. My tardiness to my own brother’s surprise party was due to a tagalong visit from our mutual friend Piper. She was a musical legend, a country pop star I’d managed to score for the night. Though she’d been a huge hit for the party, it had been a chore getting her there.

Of course, my late arrival hadn’t been my fault but here I was, still taking the blame. His earlier words about being a diva entered my mind, and my stomach sank.

One of the guys nodded to Greg, directing his attention to me.

Greg smiled. “Hey, Jellybean.”

But I couldn’t play that game, not now. I pivoted, rushing off to the safety of our table and the mind-numbing questions from Harry. Anything was better than having that knife shoved into my gut, yet again.

The figures on the dance floor writhed in tune to the heavy beat. Ties were no longer on, collars unbuttoned, and high heels sat abandoned in heaps next to many a chair. The party was officially in full swing. As soon as I sat down, someone yelled they were going to cut the cake, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up again.

I didn’t know how much time passed before I felt a light brush of fingers on my bare shoulder. It could have been minutes. It could have been an hour. When I glanced up, I saw Greg’s face etched with concern as he sat next to me, a glass of water in his hand.

“Everything okay?”

The beat pulsed within me, shoving brutally around inside my head. I felt one misstep away from a panic attack, as if the combination of the crowd and the noise were closing in on me. But I played it cool, keeping my charitable smile in place. I noticed the glass of water he was sipping on. “No champagne?”

He grimaced, rubbing his stomach. “Too much food. It just didn’t settle well with the champagne, so I thought I’d hold off. Maybe later.” His lips pressed together, and I knew he wasn’t going to let my deflection go. Sure enough, he said, “You want to talk? Maybe go outside and get some fresh air?”

That sounded heavenly. But I found myself shaking my head before I could stop the action.

His eyes narrowed, seeing too much. His voice lowered, though it couldn’t go too quiet with all the noise. “I can feel you pushing me away, Jellybean, and I don’t know why. Talk to me.”

The pleading note in his voice almost undid me, and all my doubts nearly came tumbling out.

But Harry chose that moment to reappear. “Rhonda, would you care to dance?”

Eric Clapton started singing about a lady in red, and I latched onto Harry’s hand as if he were a lifeline. We danced. The next song came on, another slow one, and Greg appeared over Harry’s shoulder, tapping him.

“I believe I’ll cut in.”

Fuck. I owed him, though, from that stupid bet, so I plastered on my fake smile and tucked one hand in his, the other resting lightly on his shoulder.

Greg didn’t waste any time. “This is bullshit, Rhonda. I thought we were past all this.” His grip on my waist tightened, pulling me flush against him as I sucked in a startled breath. There was no space between us. He leaned down to nuzzle my neck, his hips swaying in beat with mine.

I stiffened, fighting the lump in my throat even as a thrill went through me at his touch. “So did I.” And I shoved away from him, leaving him alone in the middle of a song on the dance floor.

He didn’t follow me. I grabbed my clutch off the table then fled to the bathroom, knowing if he tried to, he wouldn’t be allowed in. Thankfully, the bathroom was spacious enough that I could lean against the far wall with my hip against the sink, and not be in anyone’s way. I pulled out my phone.

Maybe I’d text Avery. She’d know what to do. But when I swiped open my screen, a new sort of horror waited for me, one that had me biting my knuckle to keep from screaming in frustration.

Kevin had texted me again, from a new number. Another disturbing picture, this one with a caption that read,

Tell Avery her mom says hi. And thanks for the book. We wouldn’t have found each other without it.

My phone dropped to the tiled floor with a loud clatter. I hurried to pick it up, afraid someone would see the awful photo. Oh no. Avery has to be told. Her mom was with Kevin, one of the most vindictive and manipulative people I knew.

Avery’s dad had Alzheimer’s, and Avery was doing everything she could to get him the proper care. Her mom, a well-known author and YouTuber, had embraced a much more vivacious lifestyle since her father’s diagnosis. So far, she had managed to keep a lid on it, not wanting it to ruin her career. Kevin could very well be the final straw that broke that camel.

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