Page 69 of I Hope This Finds You Well

Rhonda smiles and pats my arm. “Like Armin! Not that you’re thesame, but I’m sure it’s nice to have someone you work with share the same culture as you.”

Relief washes over me as the warmth of her hand seeps in. “Yeah,” I say, and nod. So what if the majority of the total conversations we’ve had in our four years working together happened this week?

Rhonda twists the stem of her glass. “I know Armin gets annoyed with me, especially when I talk about Carl. But I can’t help it, it’s my life.”

A lump forms in my throat. I take another gulp of wine to wash it down.

She follows suit, taking another heavy swig of her own. She stares at the now empty bottle sitting between us, eyes glazed over. “I know I talk about him a lot, but he made me very proud. Even when he did something disappointing, I was always so proud, so full of joy, to be his mom. It was the best time of my life.”

She’s speaking in past tense.

I can’t help but think of my own mom—the messages she sent today asking how work was going and to tell me about the newest fucked-up show she found on Discovery Channel. That string of unanswered texts isn’t much better than Rhonda’s call log.

“For what it’s worth,” I begin, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice, “I can tell you’re a great mom.”

Rhonda holds up her nearly empty glass wineglass toward me. “I didn’t think you were all bad, but it’s good to be right.”

I clang my glass with hers. “To being right.”

And right when she raises her drink to polish off the last of our bottle, Garret walks in, trailed by two other guys from the finance team, Anthony Clark and Paul Chauncy. I’ve never spoken to them before; finance men tend to move in a pack, and the medley of cologne and hair gel odors makes me dizzy.

“The lovers will be here in ten minutes,” Garret announces to the room. “She thinks we’re going on a double date to meet my new boyfriend, Eduardo.”

Rhonda nudges me and calls out, “Well, the party’s ruined becausenobody will believe that lie. You couldn’t get a guy with such a sexy name. The best you could get is a Bruce. Isn’t that right, Jolene?”

I try to chuckle, but more of Caitlin’s friends from the office are trickling down the stairs, and all their eyes are narrowing in on me with expressions ranging from curiosity to suspicion.

“I’ll get more wine!” Rhonda announces gleefully, stumbling out of her seat and toward the bar.

Garret’s gaze trails from the clearly inebriated Rhonda to me, eyeing me like I’m a criminal.

And this is my cue to leave. I stand up, intending to make my way outside as subtly as possible, when—

“Surprise!”everyone yells at once, and I am forced against the back wall as everyone crowds forward to greet Caitlin as she appears at the top of the staircase.

She clutches a hand—the one with the diamond on it—against her chest in fake awe. “Oh god, you guys shouldn’t have!”

The throng encroaches on her. A glass of bubbly appears in her hand.

“Kyle!” Garret calls, as a guy makes his way into the room behind Caitlin. From my place in the back, I can make out only the top of his gelled dark hair.

So this is the Kyle of Caitlin’s Instagram, of hand and torso modeling fame. He’s shorter than I pictured. He has his back to me as he greets Garret, but I can already tell that he’s nothing special. His jeans are the Very Bad type—I’d almost categorize them as a red flag. Caitlin takes a big swig of her champagne and walks up to him for a hug. His arm wraps around Caitlin’s shoulders and pulls her in tight against his chest, and he whispers something to her without actually moving his face toward her, in that controlling man way.

Finally, he turns to take stock of the crowd around them, and I get a decent glance at his face.

All the air rips from my lungs. I fall back against the wall like it will offer some sort of camo. But it’s too late. He flinches when he registers my face too, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.

I’m Bambi in headlights. My head is spinning, like I’ve had five bottles of wine instead of half of one. I slink around the tables, toward the exit. Everyone is still crowded so tightly around Caitlin that I have to force my way to the stairs. And Kyle is standing right there, in front of the threshold.

“Jo-Jo,” he calls out as I get close.

Before he can say anything else, I bolt past him and flee the room.

Curb Appeals

As soon as I’m out of the bar, I take three long strides, and that’s when a hand clamps down on my shoulder and forces me to a stop.

“Jo-Jo,” he says, “I can’t believe it’s you.” His eyes are darting across my face almost manically, like he’s taking stock of every detail. I turn my chin to the side and push my shoulder up to try to loosen his grip. “Every time Caitlin complained about the Jolene at work, I never imagined it was the girl from high school who—”