Page 11 of Good as Gold
But now I’m fucking up again, because “oh” is probably not the right response when your one-time best friend tells you she divorced your other one-time best friend. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I try.
Leila’s eyes flash. “So was Rory. But I just couldn’t stay. You’ll have to trust me on that.”
“Oh, I’m sure. I meant—I’m sorry for your troubles.”
Her expression softens by a few degrees. “Thank you.”
“I had no idea,” I blather. “None.”
“I’m getting that.” She gives me a hint of a smile.
“What did he do?” I demand. “Do you need me to kick his ass?”
I’d been joking. Mostly. But she gives her head a sharp shake. “There will be no ass-kicking. Just don’t repeat whatever bullshit he says about me. I don’t want to know.”
“Deal. But I’m not a gossip, Leila. Whatever happened between you, it’s none of my business.”
Her eyes dip. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Hey. Chin up,” I say, as if I have any right to give out pep talks while my own life is a dumpster fire. But I would do anything to cheer up Leila. “I heard there’s going to be some excellent chow at this party.”
I step a little closer, stop dancing, and just hug her again.
She freezes for a split second. Then sort of melts into my embrace. “I heard they also have liquor. And I don’t even have to drive home.”
I laugh into her hair, which smells amazing. “Why? Where are you staying?”
The song ends, unfortunately, and Leila takes a healthy step back. “I’m renting from your brother. Benito and Skye just bought a house.”
“Oh. So it’syou.”
“What do you mean?”
I snort. “I thought I’d be able to crash at Benito’s apartment, but I’ve been told I’ll have to stay in a camper on my uncle’s farm.”
“Sorry.” She smiles. “It’s a really nice place, too. I signed a one-year lease.”
“Well, good. I’m glad you had somewhere to go. And I won’t be staying long, anyway.”
“Oh.” A flash of something like regret flashes through her eyes. “Just a quick vacation?”
“I’ll be here a couple weeks. Figure it will take me that long to catch up with everybody.”
“Yeah, I bet.” She crosses her arms, and I absolutely do not notice that it enhances her cleavage even further. “You were away alongtime. Like fifteen or sixteen years.”
“Uh, yeah.” It’s actually fourteen, but I have my reasons for not correcting her. There’s one trip home she can never know about.
“Who’s the angriest at you?”
“I am!” my mother says, swooping in to wrap her arms around me. “It’s me. I’m super mad.” She starts kissing my cheek like a deranged person.
“Mom! Jesus.”
Leila laughs.
“The meal is served, you two.” Mom releases me. “Go downstairs and get yourselves a plate.”
Now that’s an idea I can get behind.
