Page 32 of The Rebound
“Abby!”
I turn at the shout to see Beth jogging across the street, her hands shoved awkwardly into the pockets of her coat. “I thought that was you!” She comes to a stop in front of me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You going out?”
“Coming back,” I say, trying to calm down. “I just had dinner with my sister.”
“Nice!” She smiles at me, looking hopeful. “You didn’t stop by. I was saving an éclair for you.”
“Oh. Um.” I falter, looking for something to say that’s notI’m avoiding you even though you were nice to me because I’m a giant coward. “I’ve been really busy.”
“Of course. Sure. I just wanted to say sorry about the other day.”
I can only stare at her. “Youwanted to say sorry?”
“Luke’s super stressed with his course but there was no excuse to talk to you like that.”
“But he was right,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
“For what? Telling me the truth?” She smiles ruefully. “You think I don’t know opening a café in the middle of nowhere would be tough? People have said a lot worse to me.”
“Still,” I say. “I’m so—”
“You’re forgiven.” She waggles her fingers in a downward motion. “Cleansed. Forgotten. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. So long as you can forgive Luke for being an idiot. Honestly, that man is like a child sometimes.”
“It’s not his fault,” I say tiredly.It was mine.
Beth hesitates, sensing my mood. “Are you doing anything now? You want to get a drink? You’d be saving me from a night alone in front of the television.”
“Look, this is… you don’t have to—”
“What? Be nice to you?” She shrugs. “I can’t help it. You look super pathetic right now.”
“I would love a drink,” I say truthfully. “A very large, very alcoholic drink.”
“I think we can manage that,” she says, looking thoughtful. “How do you feel about questionable merlot?”
7
Beth brings me to one of the newer pubs in the village. It’s small and busy because there’s not much else to do in a place this size, and is aimed at a decidedly younger demographic judging by the underage drinkers sipping furtively in the corner. There’s a slightly grimy feel to the place and, though we get a few looks, there’s no one I recognize.
In New York, Tyler and I only went to upmarket bars, the kind without prices on the menu. Sometimes Jess would drag me to some new club everyone was talking about or I’d take her to a few of the Irish places I knew around the city, but it’s rarely how I’d spend a free evening and I’m momentarily awkward when Beth returns to our table with two extra-large glasses of red wine.
“One for you,” she says. “And one for me.” She places them down with exaggerated care before noticing my expression. “Did you want a beer instead?”
I shake my head as she takes a sip. The glass is so full it’s almost brimming over. “I haven’t had a night out in a while.”
“You live in New York,” she scoffs, and I laugh.
“I’m usually very healthy.”
“I thought you moneymakers were all work hard, play hard.”
“Lots are. I just never knew where they found the time.” And Tyler was never into that scene. He was a natural early riser and hated anything that messed with his REM. Nothing alcoholic, caffeinated, or spicy at least four hours before bed.
“Were you always in New York?” Beth asks, shrugging off her coat. She’s wearing dark blue dungarees underneath and a white and black striped shirt. I’d look like an overgrown child if I wore something like that, but she manages to make it look chic.
I try the wine.Questionableis the right word to describe it. But it’s cheap and needed and coats my mouth. “London first,” I answer, taking another sip. “I was there for a year after I finished up at LSE. Then Paris for a few months on an internship and then New York.”
“And now Clonard.” Beth grins. “What’s one more than a trifecta?”
