That hit uncomfortably close to the dark place where she shoved her self-doubts and questions, but she just double-locked the door because her dad was wrong. She knew what she was about, that’s all. She knew who she was, what she wanted, and what she definitely didn’t need in her life. “Isn’t there a rule against analyzing your own kid?”
“Just making an observation, Muffin.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and headed for the door, followed by Gussie who’d jumped down from the bed at the first sign of her dad leaving her bedroom. “I’ll let you get ready. Remember to have fun today.”
She was going to do her best to try. All she had to do was avoid Constance Harmon as much as possible and not think too hard about what her dad said, because she was most definitely not playing with fire when it came to Frankie Hartigan. That was just crazy talk.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table just as she started getting dressed.
Gina: Are you dead?
Lucy: Not yet.
Fallon: Is Frankie dead yet?
Lucy: No.
Tess: How’s cutie boy Gussie?
Gina: The dog? Really? That’s what you’re going with when she’s halfway across the country with a hot firefighter????
Tess: He does look so cute in pics.
Fallon: Gross. That firefighter is my brother.
Gina: We’ll let you know when it’s safe to rejoin the group text, then.
Lucy: Gussie is fine.
She shared a pic of the dog she’d taken before her ill-planned trip to Frankie’s room last night. She’d barely hit send before the hearts started exploding on her screen and the text alert notifications told her that all of her girls had hearted the photo.
She pulled on her shirt, a cute green V-neck T-shirt that was about as soft as soft got, and her skirt while the three little dots announcing someone was typing appeared and disappeared on her screen. No doubt her girls were having a side discussion about the whole reunion trip with Frankie right now. God help her if they ever got in a room with her dad. There’d be no resisting that interfering foursome. Her phone buzzed.
Gina: Any news to share or juicy gossip?
Yep. They were definitely having a sidebar conversation.
Lucy: We just got here last night. Had some car trouble.
Gina: Is that what the kids are calling it these days?
Fallon: Again. My BROTHER.
Tess: Who said it was okay for you to read again? :)
Lucy: So funny. Let’s remember who we’re talking about.
Gina: Exactly. We’re talking about you, ya badass.
Despite the fact that they were just giving her shit and looking for dirt—that most definitely was not going to appear—Lucy couldn’t help but giggle at their texting shenanigans. Delusional or not, hearing from her girls was exactly what she needed to gird up for the day ahead.
Lucy: Well this badass has to go pick up her reunion registration packet.
Tess: Go forth and be awesome!
Lucy: xoxo
Okay, so she was grinning like a fool by the time she swiped on the extra coat of red lipstick that should just be called Confidence Booster and walked out of her room. Badass, huh? Yeah, she just had to remember that she was a different woman than the one who’d left Antioch.
But she couldn’t help wondering how everyone was going to react when they saw Frankie on her arm. Probably not the way she imagined.
Chapter Nine
Wolfie, the Antioch High School mascot, looked down at Lucy with its perennially off kilter, possibly drunk, definitely homicidal toothy grin from the wall behind the bleachers in the gymnasium. Somehow it seemed appropriate that the place where she’d gotten tormented the most during her formative years was watched over by the painting of a deranged gray wolf.
“Oh my God! Muffin Kavanagh, is that you? And look at you in that skirt! I could never wear that retro style like you do.”
Anyone not well versed in passive-aggressive grenades may not have heard the pin being pulled and would have just been left wondering why their internal organs had exploded after the sugary insult. Judging by the almost flirty look on Frankie’s face as he gave Constance Harmon the slow up-and-down, he’d missed it. Not a surprise. He was a dude, after all. And if the insult wasn’t delivered via Daisy Cutter, then it didn’t register.
That was the reason for the annoyance squeezing her lungs, because it sure wasn’t the fact that Sir Flirts A Lot was giving Constance the hey-baby look. Sure, he was just pretending he was Lucy’s date, but that didn’t mean he had to do a shitty job of it. She was, after all, standing right here.
And to think her dad had stopped in her room to deliver that playing-with-fire warning.
“You are so right, it takes a woman with some luscious curves to do it justice,” Frankie said as he curled his left arm around Lucy’s waist and offered his right to shake Constance’s hand. “I’m Frankie Hartigan. You must be the Constance I’ve heard so much about.”