Page 52 of Healing You
“What can I get you?” A rough voice cut through the noise of the restaurant.
“Two Limoncellos,” Kyra said, not missing a beat. She gave a quick look to Yvonne, waiting for her nod of approval.
Yvonne looked to Nick, giving him a small smile. “Please.”
He turned his attention back to Kyra as she held out her acrylic nails, inspecting the bold red color she'd chosen. “Do you think these make me look too witchy?”
Nick pressed his palms into the bar, leaning over—no, make that towering over them, and the intensity and pressure Yvonne felt emanating off of this guy was a lot to take. And it wasn't even directed at her. “Uh, Kyra,” Yvonne said, her voice meek in comparison.
“I mean, red isn't usually my color, ya know? I'm more of a pink girl—”
From beside them, Nick gave a guttural, intentional throat clearing cough that finally stopped Kyra mid-sentence. She met his glare and raised him a scowl. “Am I supposed to pay first?”
“It's an open bar,” he answered. “But a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ would be nice.”
She inhaled a quick laugh that could have doubled as a hiccup. “You're joking, right?”
“Please,” Yvonne jumped in, quickly smiling at Nick.
“You already said please,” Nick answered, his eyes not leaving Kyra. He grabbed an empty glass, pouring a bottle of yellow liquid over ice and slid it to Yvonne. His eyebrow lifted in challenge to Kyra.
“Okay,” she said, putting her palms up. “Please. And I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner.”
He grunted something Yvonne couldn't understand and filled another glass, handing it to Kyra. “Your mom would be so proud,” he added sarcastically.
Uh-oh. Kyra's chin jerked up, her brown eyes flashing like fire and she darted a hand out, grabbing his sleeve before he had a chance to walk away. “My mom is dead, you asshole.” Her voice was near a whisper... and when you got to know Kyra, you knew that her normal volume was loud. Louder than loud. You really were in danger when she got quiet.
“I'm sorry,” he said. And it seemed genuine.
Yvonne placed a hand on Kyra's wrist, coaxing her to let go of the man. “Kyra, he apologized. And he's the keeper of the booze tonight. A night that I'm really gonna need some drinks.” Kyra's eyes glittered as moisture covered them in a sheen. But in a blink, that moisture was gone, and she released Nick's shirt.
“You better keep 'em coming,” she said, gesturing to their drinks, then added, “Please.”
Yvonne spun, keeping her arm tightly around Kyra and guiding her away from the bar. Away from Nick. Only, she turned and bounced from one angry face right into another. Ronnie Tripp stood behind her, her hands on her hips. She wore a deep purple wrap dress that was casual and cute. Her dark, curly hair fell around her tanned complexion, and subtle makeup complimented the rich color of the dress perfectly. All that anger—all those feelings of betrayal that she had worked so hard to let go of with Steve—slammed into her like a sledgehammer to the head with Ronnie.
Ronnie's face didn't look as angry as Yvonne felt. She looked shocked. But her ex-friend's body language told a different story. Her biceps and forearms were clenched, muscles pushing against her tanned, taut skin. “So, it's true. Lydia told me you were coming... I guess I didn't believe it. I didn't believe he could forgive you after what you did to him.”
Kyra cleared her throat, stepping between her friends. “Guys, it was a long time ago—”
“Yeah, it was a long time ago,” Ronnie said. “And the fact that thirteen years still hasn't completely healed him should tell you just how much you fucked him up.”
“Me?” Yvonne coughed or laughed or choked... she couldn't really tell which. Was she hearing this right? “What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, dropping her voice to a whisper. It was an engagement party for God's sake. The last thing Cam and Lydia needed was for them to be making a scene. “You and Steve both left me in a hospital bed, unable to walk, and never visited. Not once. You were my best friend, Ronnie—”
“Yeah and if it hadn't been for your le—”
All Yvonne saw was the back of Kyra's head, bouncy blond curls blocking her view of Ronnie. “Enough. Now is not the place or the time, you guys. I've been offering for years to sit down with both of you and be the buffer so you could work shit out. Neither of you took me up on it. And I'm not going to let you ruin Cam and Lydia's party.” She stepped back, looking between the two girls, and slammed the rest of her Limoncello, putting the glass on the bistro table next to them. “Maybe next week we can all meet up at a coffee shop or a bar, or hell, a boxing ring for all I care, and work this out—”
“There's nothing to work out,” Ronnie said. “Just don't break his heart again.”
With that, she stalked to the other side of the bar and ordered a glass of red wine from Nick.
Yvonne felt an emptiness in the pit of her stomach as though it dropped down to her pelvis. “What the hell was that about? Steve disappeared on me.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“But? There is no 'but' involved here, Kyra. They both abandoned me. It took me a few weeks, but I accept the fact that the accident was partially my fault. Steve walking away hurt. But my best friend? That hurt more.” Yvonne shook her head, hugging her arms against her stomach. Damn. Why'd she let Kyra talk her into this dress? She knew it'd be uncomfortable. “I knew she blamed me for the accident, but there were two lives that almost ended that night. I just thought mine was important to her, too. Guess I was wrong.”
“I know,” Kyra said, her eyes softening. “But Steve's a good guy. He loved you. He wouldn't have walked away for no reason. Did you ever wonder why?”
