Page 46 of She Was Made for Me

I send off my lame excuse, hoping he’ll let it go. If there’s one thing Richard understands, it’s work.

Rich: Come on. It’s our last chance before Di and I go out of town tomorrow night.

Shit. I forgot they were heading out of town for two weeks. Rich has some clients to meet up with in Boston, and Di talked him into making it a summer holiday on the East Coast. How she got Rich to agree to that much time off work is beyond me.

I sigh, giving in to my friend.

Kyle: Okay. Usual time and place?

We used to play weekly, back when I lived in the city, so he’ll know what I mean.

Rich: See you then.

I throw my phone onto the bed and lie back to look at the ceiling, at the plaster that still needs to be repaired, but I can’t even muster the energy to care. All I can think about is how I’m going to look Rich in the eye tomorrow.

18

Kyle

Islam the ball into the wall and instantly feel better.

“There he is,” Rich says as my serve ricochets off the front wall and sails past him. “Just as sharp as ever, I see.”

I laugh, catching the ball and preparing to serve again. It’s been a long time since I’ve held a racket, let alone played, but being back here with Rich feels good. When I left the city I was trying to escape the hectic life I’d built for myself. I didn’t realize what else I’d lose in the process.

Rich doesn’t miss this time, and we rally for a few minutes, dodging each other, eyes glued to the ball as it flies around the court. At the end of the first game, we stop to catch our breath.

Rich reaches for his water bottle with a smile. “How are things at the house?”

“Good.” I inspect my racket, refusing to meet his gaze. As if something in my eyes might give away what I did last night and Rich will realize what a bad friend I truly am.

“Are you looking out for my girl?”

Despite myself, I feel a prickle of jealousy at the way Rich refers to Violet as ‘his girl.’

Because sheishis girl—she’s his daughter, for fuck’s sake.

“She’s fine,” I mutter, prepared to leave it at that, but there’s a pinch in my chest as I think again of what she told me at dinner—how scared she is that Rich will be disappointed in her. That he won’t be proud. “Very good at her job,” I add.

“Yes, she’s hardworking.” Rich sets his bottle down. “Though sometimes I worry she works too hard.”

“I wonder where she gets that from,” I respond dryly.

He chuckles. “Yeah, but I’m an old man. She’s young, with her whole life ahead of her. She needs a life outside of work, too.”

I nod, picking up the ball and bouncing it on my racket. “That’s what I told her last night.”

Rich gives me a curious look. “You saw her last night?”

Shit.

I feel the color drain from my face and concentrate on bouncing the ball. I can’t lie to my friend. “Yeah, we ended up grabbing dinner together after work.”

I try to console myself with the knowledge that we didn’t do anything wrong—merely ate dinner and talked. I had every chance to do more than that, and I didn’t.

Rich is quiet for a while and my stomach churns with unease. I glance over to see if he’s figured it out—that I want his daughter more than anything and I’ve let myself imagine what it would be like to have her—but he’s just busy tying his laces.

“I’m glad she has you there,” Rich says when he straightens up. I should be relieved, but his words make me feel worse. “You two seem to work well together.”

---