Page 25 of Lessons in Forgiving
The boys behind him—who’d abandoned their own game as well—got louder, which I hadn’t thought possible. They high-fived each other on what they thought was an easy win.
“Boys will be boys,” I sighed, and Riley placed another +2 on top of Blake’s, winning the game.
He froze. Caden stopped celebrating first, and Dylan quickly followed suit. For a second, they gawked at the last card. Then, the complaints flew across the table.
“Hey! He already won!”
“That’s not how the game works!”
“It was over! You can’t just apply house rules!”
Maeve shook her head, proud smile on her face when she placed her hands on Riley’s shoulders. “Nu-uh,” she tsked. “It’s our house. Which means our house rules. You lose.”
Caden and Dylan, who hadn’t played in over seven rounds, seemed more wounded by Blake’s loss than he was himself.
While Caden drove a hand across his bleach-blond buzzcut in clear distress, and Dylan sank into the neighboring chair with a groan, Blake just… sat there. With a smile on his face that almost made it seem like he was content with the outcome. “Congrats, Rie,” he said solemnly.
“I usually take my apologies in cash.” She winked at him, and I knew Riley was only half joking. Her last boyfriend had cheated on her, and she’d gotten a grand out of it. For emotional damages.
Blake huffed. “Apology for what?”
“Underestimating my Uno skills. Thinking I’d lose. Thinking you’re better than me.”
I wished I could’ve heard his reply, but my phone rang, and I’d been waiting for that all evening. With how fast I jumped for it on the table, everyone else could probably tell.
Dylan’s eyes flicked from the vibrating device up to me. “Boyfriend calling?” he asked mockingly.
I knew he was talking about Henry. And I knew he’d said it the way he did because the two weren’t… each other’s biggest fans. To put it lightly.
“He’s not—”
But Maeve interrupted me with an endearing eye roll. “Not yet,” she corrected. She leveled Dylan with a look.Thelook. If only to underline it, her eyes drew to the vase in the living room holding the flowers Henry had been supplying on a weekly basis. “Give it another week.”
I glared at her—finally grabbed my still vibrating phone—and then glared at Dylan. Who was grinning widely, by the way, like he was in on some secret now. “And no,” I snickered. “Not Henry. It’s— Eddie!” I said by way of greeting, already halfway up the stairs by the end of my sentence.
Enthusiasm was an understatement. The smile on my lips was so wide my cheeks hurt. “What did they say?”
I had expected the news earlier, right after his meeting about what had been my third real article for thePost.Mental Health in Times of Crisis (Finals Week). And that Eddie had waited seven hours to call me today, had not contributed to mine.
Eddie snorted in amusement on the other end of the line, and I closed my bedroom door behind me. The bed stood in the corner, foot of it pointing toward me, and one side against the orange wall.
Maeve had given me fairy lights to hang across the room, and they were the only lights on. “I’m fine, thank you for asking, Paula,” Eddie joked. Which was rare.
The man barely even laughed. And now I’d gotten an amused snort and a joke. All in the span of seconds. Good sign, right?
I couldn’t help gnawing on my bottom lip, not sure what else to do, with nerves and anxiety threatening to burst at the seams. Mom had tried countless times to get rid of my habit— unsuccessfully.
“Please, Eddie,” I begged, throwing myself onto the bed with a groan. “I’m dying here. Don’t do this to me. What did they say?”
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” he snickered. “It’s just so fun when you guys doubt me, and I prove you wrong.”
“Ed—” I almost complained again, but then his words settled. I stilled. My eyes widened.
Because for him to be right, for my doubt to be proven wrong… That meant that—
“They loved it, Paula.”
His words echoed in my mind, which seemed to have been emptied. Save for those echoing words, of course.
