Page 6 of Lessons in Forgiving
1. Shoes off!
2. Laugh loudly
3. Cry freely
4. Dance badly
All in all, not much to see—not more than usual, anyway. “I was just leaving the paper, talking to Eddie about… my next article—”
“Oh!” Laila squeaked from the floor. “He finally assigned you something that isn’t a horoscope?”
And bless her, I knew she did not mean for it to sound as… sad as it did. When I deadpanned a “No” her face fell.
I wasn’t sure which I hated more: the pity or the disappointment. “Not yet,” I corrected before getting back to the point. “Anyway, so as we part in… mutual ways, you’ll never guess who I ran into.”
“Ran into?” Riley again.
“Almostran into,” I amended.
Maeve, of course, sighed theatrically before I even mentioned a name.
“Oh, Paula,” she muttered. “You talked to him, didn’t you?” Another sigh. “Remember that No Contact rule? Talking most definitely falls under contact—”
“I did not talk to him, thank you very much.” The prolonged silence, and my friends’ expectant looks, forced me to elaborate. “…Just looked at him. For a little too long. Until he looked back at me, and we kind of had this eye-contact thing going on, but he was so far—”
I was trailing off, and Maeve’s grimace told me I sounded too excited. So, I cut myself off. “UntilIlooked away first andbolted.” My best friend threw her head back, letting it fall against the back of the couch and shaking it with yet another sigh on her pink lips.
“Jesus Christ, Paula,” she huffed, hands running across her face. Riley and Laila stayed quiet. “For the record.” She continued. “Longingly staring after Pressley counts as contact. You’ll never get over him like this, darling. It’s been a year.”
Her tone had taken on a comforting note, the small smile screamingPity. Again.
“I know, I know. You’ve already said that!” I groaned. She was about to disagree with me when I realized: “In my head! You’ve already said it in my head. And I know. And it makes sense. I want to get over him. I am, kind of. Butay dios mío, Maeve, look at him! It’s impossible.”
“He is a catch.” Riley agreed thoughtfully, twirling a single black box braid around her finger.
“Thank you!” I swept my hand in her direction for emphasis. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting he’s a… catch.” Riley gave me a wink when I glanced at her. “And admiring what makes him so catchy. From afar.”
Maeve tilted her head, gaze flicking across my face. My tan skin, brown eyes, the curls framing them. “No,” she hummed. “There’s nothing wrong with that. And I love the guy—don’t look at me like that, I do! But look at you. You locked eyes with him once and fell right back in love.”
Again, that sympathetic tone in her voice, pity residing in the brown of her eyes.
“That’s an exaggeration.” My gaze cut to Riley, then Laila, feeling the need to clarify. “She’s exaggerating,” I doubled down.
Riley snickered, “We know, babe.” Raising a suggestive brow, she continued innocently twirling one braid between her fingers. Like she wasn’t insinuating what she was insinuating.
Laila, her voice as airy as always, jumped in. “Guys,” she pleaded. “Paula doesn’t need Henry. She’s got Jack.”
I didn’t mean for my face to do that thing, but I scrunched my nose, furrowed my brow and physically cringed at the mention. I immediately felt bad.
While Maeve and Riley wiggled their eyebrows, I groaned. “Do I?”
“You could!” Riley half-yelled, half-screamed, the way she always talked when she was still busy laughing. “You have that poor man wrapped around your little finger. No need to shake your head, it’s true. If he’s coming tomorrow, you’ll see.”
“Tomorrow?” Maeve asked.
“Michael’s thing, remember?” Translation: A party. It was always a party with Riley. “He invited me, and I know I mentioned that I’m dragging every single one of you with me.”
She threw a pointed look at Laila, who definitely did not want to go, but would most likely end up there regardless. The fact her girlfriend would probably show up was half the reason. Looking back at me, Riley added, “I assume Henry will be there, too.”
