Page 61 of Tomorrow Belongs to Us
“About being his wife?” I really am getting worried about her now.
“Something’s off,” Megan murmurs to herself.
My blood begins to boil. She’s becoming obsessed by him again. “You'll make yourself ill trying to make sense of it.”
“Are you still sad over that sonofabitch?” the inked guy asks. It's even obvious to them that Megan is thinking about Lance and nothing else. “I can help you forget him,” he murmurs invading her personal space so closely that he’s only inches from her face. Stupidly, he puts his hand over Megan’s.
“Don’t do that.” Megan shoots back at him, visibly irate. Removing her hand, she turns to me. “It makes sense, don’t you see?”
“You'll make yourself sick trying to make sense of it all,” I tell her.
“But she, his wife, didn’t give me the impression that she was coming home.”
“You want to believe your fairy tale, but this isn’t going to end happily ever after, Megan. Stories with married men never do.”
“It seemed like she was passing by,” Megan continues.
I lower my chin to my chest and inhale. Megan is good at concocting alternative facts when she just needs to believe what she saw.Thatwas the truth. When a man's wife and daughter turn up unexpectedly, that’s proof.
Lance Turner is up to no good.
I attempt to simplify things for her. “The wife and child might have returned from a sleepover at Grandma’s because of some-other-reason-that-I-can’t-think-of-right-now. Grandma might have had surgery and come home from the hospital, and they went to visit her. Who knows, Megan? Who cares?” I yell, much to the shock of our new acquaintances. I throw my hands into the air in exasperation. “The woman said she was his wife! That’s what you told me. You heard her! You saw her!” I’m so annoyed I could easily do a two-hour spin class. “You’ve got to stop this, and you’ve got to stop it now. Otherwise, you’ll get hurt all over again. Why can’t you trust your instincts?”
She pisses me off more than she knows. I want to slap that hopefulness, that obsession out of her.
“Iamtrusting my instinct. He said he’d moved to the area to be closer to the college where he teaches. There was nothing homely about his place; no evidence of children’s toys or anything.”
“That’s because if they’d recently moved, it takes people a while to settle in. You’re trying to make things fit when the truth is plain to see.”
“I am not,” Megan insists.
I have now officially lost the will to live. I drink my cocktail as if I've come upon an oasis in the desert and this is my first glass of water.
“I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt,” she opines, causing me to slap my hand to my forehead as I try to regain my frayed composure.
“No, sweetie.” I shake my head. “You’re trying to fix it and make it something it isn't.” If these guys weren't here, I would tell her that she's desperate for sex, for connection, and she’s making Mr. Turner to be something he isn't.
Much to my dismay, Megan has that determined look on her face, as if she wants to believe her theory, even if it doesn't make sense. I'm not prepared to stand by and let her make a fool of herself again. Lance Turner is good-looking. He was the hottest teacher in high school, but this ridiculous obsession she has with him has to stop.
“The guy’s a jerk,” Three-Chin snorts.
“Sounds like it,” his friend agrees.
“Where are you going?” I ask as Megan hops off her bar stool.
“Yeah, where do you think you’re going?” Tattooed Guy blocks Megan’s path. “We just got you ladies a round of drinks. The least you can do is sit here with us.”
Megan gives him a thunderous look. “I’m going to ask you nicely. Please move.”
“I ain’t moving, sugar. And your friend thinks you’re making a mistake,” the man winks at me, grinning.
“Move.” Megan snarls.
I put my hand on her arm. “Even I think you’re making a mistake.”
“I don’t care what you think,” she snaps.
The friendly joking disappears and talk turns serious. The air grows taut with friction.
