Page 19 of The Write Stuff

Yes, Agnes had married my mother’s third husband. I always knew that had something to do with the fight, although my mother refused to acknowledge that. She just said Mick and Agnes were dead to her and never talked about it again. I knew, though. Agnes and Mick had embarked on an affair, one that had crushed my mother’s heart. Sure, my mother was as fickle as they come. Nobody deserved that level of betrayal from somebody they considered a sister, however.

And, weirdly, I’d missed Mick when he was gone. I’d thought I hated the man when he was married to my mother, but once he’d left the house, I realized I’d never hated him. I’d come to rely on the stability he offered me. It was too late to tell him that, though. I’d never seen him after the Austin incident either.

“Well, that’s good.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t want to fight with you,” I said finally, the words tumbling out. “What happened between our mothers shouldn’t affect us.”

“Meaning what?” Her eyes took on a wariness that I didn’t like.

“Meaning that we can be adults. We don’t have to be friends. I don’t want the others to feel uncomfortable being around us. They have established friendships, and I don’t want to get in the way of those friendships.”

Slowly, she nodded. “I don’t want that either. Bella has been nothing but kind to me.”

“And I like Brody and Bree a great deal,” I agreed. “Bree is a little intense about me keeping a naked statue in my yard because it’s grandfathered in under some HOA clause that was created just for her, but otherwise, she’s great.”

Wylie pressed her lips together in an attempt not to laugh. Her eyebrows raised, and I recognized the expression from when she was 16. Somehow, it was even more adorable now. “You have a naked statue in your yard?”

I nodded. “Bree dressed it up for holidays. I guess that’s the loophole. It’s considered a holiday decoration.”

“Please tell me you’re going to keep it and dress it up.”

That was ludicrous. “Absolutely not. The neighbors hate it.”

“So? Why do you care what the neighbors think?”

She’d never cared what other people thought. I always had. That was one of our main differences, although it was something I couldn’t get over. “It’s going,” I insisted.

“Does she know that?”

“Yes and no. I’ve told her, but she’s still in denial.”

“Well, it’s your yard.” She held out her hands and shrugged again.

“It is my yard.”

The uncomfortable silence was back, this time with a vengeance. I needed to end this conversation.

“I don’t want things to be awkward between us,” I started. “We don’t have to be friends or anything. We just can’t pretend we don’t know each other. We’re going to have the same friends while we’re here, so … let’s just agree to treat each other as polite acquaintances.”

“Okay,” she replied, not missing a beat. It wasn’t that I expected her to argue. I hadn’t expected her to agree that readily either.

“Okay?” I challenged.

“Okay.” Her smile was polite and flat, something you would point at a stranger. “I’m fine with that.”

“Yeah?” It was a relief, and yet somehow a disappointment at the same time.

“Yup.” She was oddly blasé about the whole thing.

“Well, great.” I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “I’m glad we agree.”

“We totally do.”

“Great,” I repeated, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Well, I should be going. Although … where is your apartment?” It was dark. How safe was Savannah? I didn’t actually know.

“It’s about 15 minutes away,” she replied. “It’s an easy walk.”

“Okay, well, should I walk you home?” It was a jerk move to put the onus of that decision on her, but I honestly didn’t know how this was supposed to go.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured me.