Page 90 of Betting on the Best Friend
We’ve been to a dozen of her shows together. Even before “Long Time Coming,” this one had felt different. Instead of jumping aroundtothe music, somehow I had feltinsidethe music with Charlie. Like it throbbed around us and in us, and it was . . .ugh, I can’t believe I’m even thinking of it this way, but it was like a shared heartbeat between the two of us.
I waited for Charlie’s arrival today with the same feeling I get in my stomach if I eat anything sweet for breakfast. I lovecinnamon rolls, but having one first thing in the morning will spike my blood sugar so high that even one of my favorite foods can make me puke. Or want to.
When he walked in looking so . . . Charlie, so comfortable in his own skin, so sure of his own style, so ready to be charmed by the old ladies and table settings, I short-circuited for a couple of seconds. I wanted to run to him and fling my arms around him. Or sock him in the stomach? Or shove him out of the event room.
It’s very confusing.
I’m trying to make space for what all those signals are telling me. It’s a riot inside my mind. And now this.
Freaking Niles and his fiancé are here for the tea.
I fix my face to look unbothered the second I spot him, but when Charlie shoots a glance at me, my eyebrows twitch once.Do you see them?
He gives the barest nod.I did and we’ll handle it, it tells me.
We work through the next several guests, admitting them quickly, which means Niles reaches us within a couple of minutes.
There are so many options here. I’m the queen of petty revenge, and I can think of appealing ways to make him pay, but Niles showing up here at all tells me exactly how this needs to be handled.
“N. Williams,” Niles says with a polite smile when he reaches us.
That’s why I hadn’t noticed his name on the list. He’d deliberately not used his first name so he could drop in like a bombshell.
Yeah, screw that.
As much as I want to tell Niles to turn his flat butt around and march it right back out, I smile at the couple like they’re any ofour regular donors. “That must make you Tally. I’m Ruby. It’s nice to meet you. Congratulations on your engagement.”
“You’re engaged?” Charlie says. “Congrats, man. Ruby didn’t mention it.”
My expression doesn’t change even though I want to laugh.Perfect, Charlie.
Niles’s face flashes annoyance before he tries for jovial, but not fast enough for me to miss the switch. “Thank you. We’re getting married in four months.”
Charlie widens his eyes and glances at Tally’s flat stomach in her yellow floral dress. “Whoa, that’s fast. Are you pregnant?”
Oh wow. This man has just cemented his legend with the besties.
I have no issue with Tally, but she has to know who I am and why Niles registered for a fundraiser he boycotted every year we dated. Agreeing to come with him makes her complicit. No mercy.
“What? No,” Tally says, her hand fluttering to her stomach while she looks confused.
“Oh, sorry.” Charlie doesn’t pretend to be embarrassed. “Assumed it must be a shotgun situation to get married so fast.”
Niles quotes their Instagram post. “When you know, you know.”
The edges of my smile turn brittle. The words are a reminder that he’s only here to mess with me, and the meanness of it makes my chest constrict. But once again, Charlie comes through.
“That’s the truth, man. You really do know.” He gives me a loaded look meant to confirm Niles’s old suspicions about our friendship. I meet Charlie’s eyes, but it’s hard not to look away from the intensity. They’re hungry, like he’s only waiting to get the rest of these people through the door so he can carry me offto do things we find on the most dog-eared pages in the return bin.
I know what Charlie is doing and why, and my mouth still goes dry.
After a couple of seconds, Niles clears his throat, and Charlie turns his attention back to him. “Right, anyway, congrats again to you both. We need to welcome our other guests, but enjoy the tea.”
Niles and Tally head inside, but I swear Niles is almost reluctant to move along.
As soon as they’re past us, I look at Charlie. “Are you kidding me?” I keep my “welcome” smile in place. “Did my ex really show up?”
“He did. We’ll get to it,” he says, smiling at the next person. “Hello, Mrs. Davenport, Mrs. Breton. So nice to see you both.”
