Page 61 of Take Me Home

“Don’t. Please. I’m the asshole.” Her fingertips grazed up his neck to his hair, coaxing his eyes back to her.

He breathed in deeply through his nose then gave a resigned shrug. “What now? I get your jacket, meet you in the alley?”

“You’d do that?”

He hooked one finger into a belt loop of her jeans and tugged, relenting. Sexy. Reassuring. Bless him.

Hazel peeked around his shoulder to track Franny’s movement through the bar, assess the situation. But Franny turned at the exact same time. A squint, another quarter-turn, and recognition flared across her features. Her hand lifted in a wave, then she was weaving through the crowded room, towing a very tall, well-groomed man along behind her.

“Too late,” Hazel said.

Franny’s face was unreadable as her heels clicked toward them on the tile, her oversize wool poncho swaying with every step. Glossy and manicured, she moved like she was on a catwalk, not in a grimy hallway that smelled of disinfectant. Hazel braced herself. Maybe Franny had been waiting for this moment to unleash everything she hadn’t said in the trickle of voicemails and texts that marked the death of their friendship, the ones Hazel simply hadn’t answered. For a wild moment, she wondered whether Franny might slap her.

About four feet away, Franny stopped, waited for her companion to catch up, and said, “Hazel.”

“Frances.”

Franny’s frown was slight, but it was enough for Hazel to correct herself. “Sorry. I don’t know why I called you that. Hi, Franny.”

Silence descended. Hazel fought the impulse to blurt another apology. Besides, how did you apologize for falling off theface of the earth? Certainly not like this, standing awkwardly post-kiss, next to a bathroom.

Ash extended a hand to the other guy, jump-starting a round of introductions. God, he was a savior. Franny referred to Hazel as her “first best friend” without a trace of bitterness. “And this is Cedric, my fiancé.” She wiggled her fingers, an enormous diamond refracting the dim light, then leaned in to hug Ash. “How are you? How’s your dad?”

“You two are friends?” Hazel asked.

They spoke at the same time, and Hazel gleaned that they’d crossed paths a few times since high school, kept up with each other on Instagram. Last she’d checked, Franny’s account was private, a closed door Hazel would rather die than knock on. A jolt of possessiveness consumed her, though she wasn’t sure which territory felt threatened—her relationship with Franny or with Ash.

Ash said his dad was recovering well from his surgery, which only seemed to confuse Franny. “Surgery? Was it related to the—”

He shook his head with a strange urgency, like the bobblehead armadillo that still sat on the dashboard of his old car. “Just a freak accident.”

Hazel felt like she was missing some insider information, but before she could figure out how to clear things up, Franny leaned in to hug Hazel. They embraced lightly, the equivalent of a dead-fish handshake.

How many of these halfway hugs could Hazel stand? First with her father, and now her oldest friend.Ex-friend. She remembered the easy physicality they’d had as girls. She’d had it with Sylvia, too, that cozy intimacy. Her stomach dropped.

They relocated to the bar, and the guys hovered behind them, already talking casually about sports. Hazel couldn’t remembera time when she’d ever had tothinkabout what to say to this girl. She started and abandoned a dozen questions in her head, and when their drinks came, she sucked half of it down before Franny finally said, “This is so awkward, right?”

“Yes,” Hazel breathed.

“I thought I might hear from you after the invitation.” Franny waved a hand. “I mean, it’s okay. I know we haven’t talked in forever.”

“Invitation?”

“To my wedding.”

“You invited me to your wedding?”

There it was, the agitation. Franny’s nostrils flared, and she picked at her cocktail napkin. “Of course I did.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get an invitation. But I moved last summer. I have a new apartment.”

Franny’s expression remained severe for another long moment. Then she reached for her handbag, her eyes guarded but something hopeful in them, too. “It’s in August. Do you want to see the venue?”

A pressure valve released inside of Hazel. “Yes.”

She swiped through the pictures on Franny’s phone. Each one led Franny into another story about the wedding planning, and the weirdness between them began to dissolve.

“This is all so you. Exactly what I would have pictured.”

---