Page 12 of Love Expert
“Billy is my next-door neighbor!? That nice boy from elementary school, the sweet one who was the antithesis of all things bully? When some jerkoff knocked my books out of my hands on the way to class, since I was kinda small, it was Billy every single fricken time who’d be rightthere to pick them up for me again. When Reggie Criada tried to pick on me, cos I?—”
“Was kinda small?” she finishes with a grin. “Yeah.”
“It was Billy who shut that twerp up! When Giana Samson called me scrawny and ugly, Billy went toe-to-toe with her brother and made damn sure she quit it. You’re telling methatBilly Caster is the same Billy Caster who slammed me against a damn wall and tried to arrest me for being inside my own house?”
Her eyes alight. “Guess the grapevine got one right.”
“ThatBilly Caster married Aria Sinclair? A girl who wasalsopure and sweet and kind and just…” I release a pent-upgah! “They were perfect for each other! But now they’re divorced, and he turned into a giant asshole?”
“Divorced?” she gasps. “What?”
“I mean, I get it. If she spoke her vows expecting theniceboy to stay, but he turned into the jerk he is today, then it makes total sense that she cut bait and hauled ass outta there. But seriously, what the hell happened to him? How did he change so much?”
“Well, he?—”
“Is he an asshole toeveryone? Or am I special because I had the misfortune of moving in next door? Does he hateallwomen?” I gasp as a new realization hits me. “Was it Aria’s fault?”
“Well—”
“I assumed she bolted because he’s a dick, but maybe she’s the reason he’s bitter.” I lean against the counter. “Did she screw him over or something? When does Jeremy see her? Because he’s been at the house every day I’ve been in town, which kinda implies Billy has primary custody. Which isn’t all that common, really. Maybe she was the problem, and maybe she’s a deadbeat who left them behind? And if that’s the case, then I suppose that’s why Billy’s such an asshole now.”
Alana snaps her lips closed, firming them into two straight lines. Then she lifts her brows until a wrinkle mars her forehead. “You done?”
“Am I done, what?”
“Talking over me. You have questions, and then you have assumptions. I have answers, so…”
“Oh…” I pick up my cupcake and take a hefty bite. “Sure. Sorry. I’ve been living with a stuffed cat mounted to the kitchen wall for ten days now. I used to ignore it, but now I kinda chat to it on the way past.”
Alana snorts.
“When I first arrived, I swore I wanted to tear that ugly thing down andtoss it to the curb, but it’s kinda grown on me over the last few days. A bit like a fungus, ya know? So even though IknowI should get rid of it, I’d feel kinda bad doing it.” I chew my dessert and whisper. “I’ve secretly named it Rupert.”
“Aria died.”
“Aria—” My stomach drops. My heart aches. My whole freakin’ soul trembles. And then I blink, blink, blink until tears turn my vision glassy. “Excuse me. What?”
ROUND SIX
MAGGIE
“She died.” Alana delivers her news so easily. So freakin’ swiftly.And what the hell’s the matter with her?She delivers it with a smile. “Eight years ago.”
“But—” I swallow the aching, crumbling, fluffy lump of cake and search for sense. For answers. For reality. “That’s impossible.”
“Uh… nope. It’s not. Cos it happened.”
“B-but Jeremy is eight. And eight years ago, Aria was only twenty-four years old.”
“Twenty-five, actually.”
Alana’s baby fusses and squeaks, waking from her sleep with a start. She balls her fists and stretches her legs, and just a second after that, the sweetest, mouse-like cry emerges from the tightly bound fabric.
Alana goes to work untying the lengths, undoing a knot, and unraveling the yards-long material until finally, she reveals a rumpled baby with fuzzy blonde hair sweat-slicked against the back of her skull, and the imprint of Alana’s shirt on her chubby little cheek.
The sweet baby girl blinks owlishly, thick bow-shaped lips opening and closing, and perfect blue eyes going up to her mom, then across to me. She glances around the store while Alana bundles the wrap and sets it on an unused stool, then she looks back to her mom and squeaks.
Alana hitches her shirt up, flicks the front of her bra down, then mother and daughter connect while the adorable baby busily guzzles her next meal. “That’s better, isn’t it?” She scoops one arm under the girl’s bottom and uses the other to support her back. Her smile is serene, her happiness,palpable. But then her eyes come back to me. “You okay over there? Processed things yet?”
