Page 260 of We Shouldn't Be Together
“Like, six months ago? Mom and I are basically on a waitlist. We get called when other people drop out.”
“I hope you’re not annoyed Dad called and got me and Mom a spot at the table.”
There’s that word again. Dad. Camila’s dad. I suck in a breath and bite the bullet. “How is your dad? I assume he heard about Camila’s mom selling her house.”
Penelope looks at her lap. “Yeah, he’s taking it hard. I don’t think his ex-wife is backing down. She was screaming on our front lawn last night.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s so dramatic.”
Penelope nods, guilt blotching her face. “That’s my step-sister and her mom.”
“Overly dramatic,” I end the thought in agreement.
A server brings over a tray of hors d’oeuvre, and Mrs. Fisher takes a seat at the head of the table. Jamie then makes her way over to the table and sets her laptop down at the opposite end to Mrs. Fisher.
I gesture at Jamie, telling my mom, “This is Jamie, Kai’s friend.”
Mom nods at Jamie. “Oh hello. Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Jamie says, flushed.
“You know, I heard the nicest reviews about the Henderson function you catered,” Mom says, oblivious to Jamie’s nervousness. “I’m very excited to try this food.”
“Oh, really?” Jamie tilts the laptop screen. “Maddy, did you hear that?”
Jamie gawks at the screen and then jabs at the buttons. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“What is it?” Christie asks, but Jamie’s already dashed away, taking the laptop into the kitchen.
Mrs. Fisher eyes the kitchen door. “Odd.”
“She was having trouble with the internet connection earlier,” Christie says. “The weather outside is horrible.”
“Sometimes the internet in this town can be the worst,” Christie’s mother says with a chuckle.
“It’s better than what we had in Logan’s Point,” Penelope whispers beside me.
There’s a stab of pain inside me. The mention of Logan’s Point triggering the old pattern of ridiculing someone. I bite down and swallow the ugly feeling.
“You must be happy about the upgrade,” I say as sweetly as possible.
Penelope shifts in her seat. “Logan’s Point isn’t really that much of a downgrade.”
Wait, did I offend her? I was trying to be nice. Seriously, was that mean? Oh my gosh, do I even know how to talk to people anymore?
Jamie and the other server return from the kitchen with two more trays of food. Then the other server attends another table, leaving fidgety and mute Jamie staring at us like she’s on pause.
Come on, girl, speak.
Christie’s mom gives her an encouraging smile, breaking the silence. “So, what do we have here, dear?”
Jamie babbles something incoherent and fixes the collar of her black T-shirt.
Penelope’s mom leans forward, ogling the array of finger food. “It all smells divine.”
As if injected with a boost of confidence, Jamie speaks. “My aunt thought these were all cute and bite-sized, perfect for a garden party.”
Mrs. Fisher picks up a finger sandwich. “I’d agree with that.”
