Page 83 of Summer Affair
Earlier, she’d peeked out the kitchen a time or two only to be greeted by dark windows across the yard. She strained her eyes to see if he was even going for his usual swim, but it reminded her of their swims together, which reminded her that he’d broken her heart. So since she couldn’t be trusted to be alone, a bikini’s throw away fromtheirpool and not engage, she’d put an entire town between her and her sexy, sweet, boneheaded temptation next door.
Earlier that evening, Clay had called her three times and texted her double that. She didn’t know if he wanted to ask her whether or not they’d be coaching together at Friday’s game or if he wanted to apologize and beg for her forgiveness. Either way, she couldn’t stomach it. If it were the first, she’d cry because he clearly didn’t know who she was, since she’d always put the kids’ happiness first. If it was the second, well then, she’d cry because she’d sadly have to tell him where to shove his apology.
So when there came a Clay-sounding knock at her back door, she snapped off the light and grabbed a bottle of wine, which she’d bought to celebrate finishing all the podcast lessons and respective exercises, and hid in the dark kitchen. Tonight, she celebrated being a miserable single woman. And when that became too lonely, she’d gone to Darcy’s. Not wanting to wake everyone, she’d knocked on the bathroom window.
“You okay?” Darcy asked, and Jillian knew what her friend saw—puffy eyes, red nose, and the look of despair.
“Absolutely, positively,”—she flipped through her cards and read—“not.”
“What’s that?” Darcy said, referring to the stack of flashcards Jillian had prepared for an occasion just like this.
“Predetermined responses to expected questions. Such as,” she flipped to the next, “Oh, I can’t read that one aloud.” And the next. “I’d have to wash my mouth out with soap for that one. Oh, here we go. When asked if Clay and I are still together, my response will be,” she cleared her throat and channeled that Girl on Fire, “I no longer hang out with people who ask me about my single status.And when asked if I can look past a man trying to steamroll me, my answer would be,Fuc—”
“Okay,” Darcy said, snatching the deck from Jillian. “Why don’t you come inside. You look like you need a hug.”
“I do need a hug.” Jillian felt a sniffle threaten and to squash that down, she shimmied up the window and—gripping the edge of the sill, her feet flailing to get traction, like a dog treading water—hoisted herself through, careening headfirst through Darcy’s bathroom window, and sending them both barreling to the floor.
Once they untwined their arms and legs, dislodging themselves from one another, Darcy said, “I could have let you through the front door.”
“Then I couldn’t checkSneak into best friend’s window undetectedoff my bucket list.”
“I don’t know if that counts as undetected.”
“There’s more. I’m here to realign myself, get back on course. And Dr.Claire always says that life’s best decisions are made in the middle of the night.”
“Did she also say they were best made drunk? Because I have an entire year of college to prove that theory wrong.”
“I went wine tasting. Item eleven on the list.” Jillian hiccupped. Then laughed. Then slapped a hand over her mouth.
Darcy sniffed Jillian’s breath and immediately jerked back, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “Where? The bottom of a barrel?”
“In my kitchen.” Jillian reached out the window and soon she was holding a half-empty bottle of wine. A crisp Pinot Grigio, not unlike the one Clay had ordered for them on their date.
God, she missed him.
“How many bottles are we talking?” Darcy reached for the bottle, but Jillian held strong.
“All the bottles and all the wine.” This came from Piper who was standing on the grass down below the window. “Move over. Pregnant lady coming through.”
Piper propelled herself through the opening, landing with a thud, and once again they were a best friend pretzel of arms and legs. But before her friends could move, Jillian wrapped them in a bear hug. “I love you,” she slurred.
“Ditto.” Piper squirmed away.
Darcy leaned out the window, around Jillian and Piper, squinting into the night. She looked at the stepstool leaning up against the house. “Did you come in a clown car?”
Jillian shook her head. “Uncle Eddie drove me.”
“He drove me too,” Piper deadpanned. “It was super fun when he tapped on my bedroom window and Josh nearly decapitated him.”
“Did you know Eddie was a golden glove contender? And that he made me my fairyland?” Jillian had to work double-time to avoid a meltdown of the nuclear kind.
“Is fairyland code for Clay being an idiot?” Darcy asked, and Jillian’s breath caught so hard in her throat that she was afraid the absence of oxygen would take her under. Which would be better than allowing a stupid man to take her under.
“Ix-nay on the A-Clay.” Piper made a slicing gesture with her hand.
Darcy looked out the window, then back to Jillian. “Wait, if Eddie drove you, where’s Sammy?”
Jillian started to take a swig and Piper confiscated the bottle.
