Page 85 of Make You Love Me
“Nice to meet you, Quinton.”
“You, too, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? On that note, I’ll leave you boys to your fun.” She crosses the room to collect her purse, lowering her voice when she reaches me. “Tell him.”
“I will,” I whisper.
“And try to stay out of trouble,” she instructs loud enough for all to hear.
“Hey, that’s my line,” I joke, hoping to get a rise out of her. She gave me nothing but a blank, agitated scowl.
“You don’t want to join us?” Wes asks with a smirk.
“As enticing as that sounds, I have an appointment.”
He frowns. “This late? What kind of appointment?”
“She has a date,” I clarify.
“No kiddin’.” Wes studies me, and I slowly shake my head, hoping to stop whatever he plans to say next. Of course, he ignores me. “What’s on the agenda?”
“Just dinner.”
“Where?”
She pushes the purse strap over her shoulder with a sigh and answers on her way toward the door. “Marcello’s. I’m going to get ready at my apartment,” she says to me. “See you later.”
She flashes the group a tight-lipped grin as she escapes, and my so-called friends waste no time shifting their interrogation to me.
“What the hell, Jordan?” Wes asks with a sharpness I could do without. I’ve talked with him the most about my history with Nora over the years, and he’s never hidden his disdain for the woman I love.
Pete and Q stop to watch us from the kitchen, the refrigerator door hanging open. All three guys are now staring at me like I grew a third arm since they arrived.
“What?”
“Why is she here? Strike that. A better question is, why is she going out with someone else if she’s here?”
“Who is she?” Q asks.
“I’ve got this one,” Wes says, holding up a hand to stop me from answering. “She’s the girl he’s been fucking for five years. And despite her refusing to date him publicly, he still asked her to marry him…twice. Which she declined both times.”
“Shit, man,” Peter empathizes, snapping open a beer.
Wes’s assault continues. “Why is she here?”
“It’s a long story.”
“What did she want you to tell us?” he asks, accepting a beer from Peter. “I heard what she said to you.”
“Come on. I’ll fill you in while we set up the game.”
We all sit around the tiny card table Nora borrowed from a neighbor with our drinks. While Q shuffles the cards and Peter distributes poker chips, I tell them about my injuries, the lingering seizures, and why Nora came back into my life.
“Since you’re an EMT,” I say to Wes, “she wanted to make sure you were aware and prepared.”
“That’s uncharacteristically kind of her, but she didn’t seem to be in the caregiver mood when she left.” Wes picks up his cards and tosses in a chip to start the game.
“She doesn’t want to go on the date, and she’s upset with me.”
