“So, Adam says you’re picking up some new responsibilities at the firm,” Meg said, filling in the gaping silence.
I swirled my drink with the tiny straw. “Yeah, with Lena cutting back on her hours now that she’s pregnant with baby number two, I’ve started to do some paralegal work.” I tried to sound excited. Truthfully, I had been surprised when my brother-in-law approached me about taking on the paralegal stuff. Sure, I was a competent receptionist, but I hadn’t quite blown everyone away with my amazing skills. The world of law wasn’t exactly my forte and not something I had a whole lot of interest in. But I appreciated the opportunity Adam and his partners Jeremy and Robert had given me, so I worked hard. However, the further I drifted from the career I used to have, the more it felt like I was losing a piece of myself.
I had never dreamed of becoming Whitney Galloway—paralegal.
Yet, it was a job. A good paying one too. I had learned that you didn’t turn your back on opportunities when they arose.
But there was no fooling my eagle-eyed sister.
“You don’t seem too jazzed at the idea,” she deduced.
“No. It’s great. I’m excited—”
“You can’t bullshit me, Whit. You look the exact opposite of excited.”
I stared down into my untouched cocktail. “I appreciate everything Adam and his partners have done,” I started to say.
“But it’s not what you want to be doing. I get that.” Meg rubbed her belly some more. My chest squeezed tight as I watched her, a mixture of happiness and soul aching sadness filling my insides. “Have you thought about looking for a makeup gig close by?” It wasn’t the first time Meg had suggested that.
And it wasn’t the first time I would shoot the idea down as fast as I could. My tone turned cool. “That life is behind me. End of discussion.”
Meg blinked, looking slightly taken aback. “But if that’s what makes you happy—”
“You don’t know what makes me happy, Meg. Just drop it,” I snapped, unable to help myself. It had become so easy to keep my sister at arm’s length. It seemed some habits were hard to break. I should apologize. Make it right. I was trying to repair our relationship, not rip new holes into it.
Instead, I retreated. I got to my feet. “I’m going to get another drink. Want anything?”
Meg glanced at the cocktail I hadn’t been drinking and shook her head. “Nope. I’m good.” She was pissed at me. And I deserved it. I always deserved it.
I quickly headed to the bar, needing a few moments to collect myself before groveling at Meg’s feet for being an asshole—again.
“Can I get a bottle of water?” I asked the bartender.
“If it isn’t our local celebrity, slumming it with the common folk.” My back stiffened at the sound of bitter laughter.
I thought about ignoring the barb. I should. I paid the bartender, took the water bottle, and slowly turned to face my former friend.
“Hi, Shelly.” I gave her a smile. “Laura too. Wow, the gang’s all here.”
The two women had changed. A lot. Shelly Thompson had gained about thirty pounds, and Laura Randolph had obviously gotten Botox and bleached her once dark hair. At one time, we had been friends. We were all on the cheerleading squad together with me as the unquestioning leader. We had known each other since Kindergarten.
But things changed. Including their affection for me apparently.
Laura put a hand on her bony hip. “So, what did we do to deserve the presence of Southport’s golden girl? Hollywood sick of you?”
I shouldn’t have been surprised at their rancor; after all, we hadn’t spoken in years because I never bothered to return calls or emails, but it still stung. And irritated me. I may deserve some bitchiness, but I wasn’t going to be a whipping boy for everyone’s hurt feelings either.
“So, Laura, how’s Dominic?” I asked innocently, knowing exactly how her former childhood sweetheart/husband was because I had just seen him at the grocery store walking around hand in hand with a girl barely out of high school.
Laura’s face dropped, and I immediately regretted throwing Dominic in her face. What was I doing? Acting like the Whitney Galloway who didn’t care about treating others like crap.
“Laura ... I shouldn’t have—”
“Must be hard coming back here with your tail between your legs,” Shelly interjected, cutting me off.
I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling heat crawl up my neck. “And how exactly do I have my tail between my legs?”
Shelly leaned forward as if she was about to share a juicy secret—the way she would have done when we were younger. “Everyone knows, Whit.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Wh—what?” I swallowed thickly. How? No one knew …
“That you’re a raging bitch that thinks she’s better than everyone in Southport,” Sally announced, straightening up. She flipped her hair behind her shoulder the way she always did as a teenager. “But newsflash. You’re not. You’re a Southie like the rest of us, no matter how much you try to hide it.”