Page 105 of Huckleberry Hill
Silence reigned.
“Of course you like him,” Wyn finally said. “I knew that would happen after you told me you slept with him.”
“Wait, you knew?” Salem asked. “When did she tell you?”
“The other day,” Wyn said. “She asked me not to say anything because she wanted to tell you herself.”
“Why does no one call me?” Poet demanded. “I feel left out.”
“The last time I called you, you were crying in a bathroom stall at work,” I reminded her.
“You were crying at work?” Wyn asked. “When?”
“I’ll tell you later. After we get off the phone with Hadley,” Poet said. “It’s not that good of a story.”
“It’s a good story,” I protested.
“Are we riding at dawn?” Wyn asked.
Poet laughed. “No. Now let’s get back to Hadley’s problem.”
“Yeah, is there a reason you’re sitting here talking to us instead of naked wrestling with the wrangler?” Wyn asked.
“Whoa, before you reply to that, I want the details. When did you hook up with Declan?” Salem demanded.
I quickly explained the night Mirabelle gave birth and what had happened between us, following it up with our plan for this evening that had gone to shit.
“So like, a few nights ago,” Poet said. “And now you’re already in a fight?”
“We’re not in a fight,” I denied.
“You were there and now you’re here, talking to us instead of being with him,” Wyn said. “Sounds like a fight to me.”
“So you like him,” Salem said. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is she doesn’t trust herself,” Poet said. “She thinks she can’t like someone so soon after her engagement ended. And she’s worried she’s going to get her heart broken again.”
“This is so charcuterie and wine talk,” Wyn said.
“We don’t have any charcuterie, but we have the rest of the wine,” Poet mentioned.
“I’ll get the bottle,” Salem offered. “Don’t say anything until I get back.”
“This is so exciting,” Poet said.
“Not a word,” Salem called out.
“I didn’t say anything important,” Poet replied.
“I’m back,” Salem said a few moments later.
“No glasses?” Wyn inquired.
“I figured we’d just pass the bottle around,” Salem said.
“Oh, that’s better,” Wyn agreed. “Gimme.”
My heart ached. The three of them were together, no doubt cuddled up on Wyn’s bed with a dog to pet and a bottle of wine to share.
