She cups my cheek with her hand, a silent I love you I suppose.
Buchanans have never been great at saying how we feel, and our love language is a little different than most. But some things don’t have to be said to be felt.
“You keep McCoy busy today?” She flips into productive mode, pulling dinner items from the fridge and pantry and lining everything up on the center island. From the looks of it, we’re having minute steaks tonight.
Only my mother would insist on cooking a meal on her own birthday. We tried years ago to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t hear it. I learned a lifetime ago that when Renata Buchanan has her mind set, changing it is a waste of perfectly good energy.
There’s also the fact that not a single one of us knows our way around the kitchen beyond heating up a can of soup or throwing together a lunch meat sandwich on the go.
“You need help with anything?” I ask as she slices onions without so much as a tear.
“Oh, honey, you’ve been working all day.” She waves toward the living room. “Go put your feet up and I’ll call you in when it’s time to eat.”
The obnoxious electronic music of McCoy’s video games trails from the living room TV. What she’s really saying is she wants me to keep an eye on the boy.
“Up,” I say when I get to the recliner. “You’re in my seat.”
McCoy slides down to the ground, never once taking his eyes off the screen. His tongue is jammed out of the side of his mouth as he controls some bright blue character who’s flying and bouncing all over the place.
I never did get into these things as a kid. It was too much chaos for me.
I’d much rather have trailed the fields on the back of my horse or laid on top of a butte beneath a blanket of stars and nothing but the sound of crickets and owls.
“There’s a tire swing out front by the gas pump,” I tell him. “You should try it sometime. I think you’d like it.”
“Huh?” He turns to me, but only for a second. The video game steals him right back.
“You have no idea what you’re missing, kid.”
Maybe it’s better that way …
… because you can’t miss something you never had.
7
Blaire
* * *
“She’s here!” Ivy all but screeches my name from the back half of Petty Cash Friday night, her teased blonde hair serving as a lighthouse beacon in the dark expanse of this quintessential small-town bar.
I opted out of the pre-drinking at Raina’s earlier in favor of having dinner with my father and Odette. That and my nerves were getting the best of me. All afternoon, I kept staring at the jeans I’d picked out and the strappy silk tank top, wondering if it was too much for a place like Petty Cash … or not enough.
And by Petty Cash, I mean Wyatt.
Maybe he’ll be here, maybe he won’t.
I tend to think that if a girl’s going to give a man a piece of her mind, she should look unforgettable doing it. I even made sure to paint my lips a shade of ruby, so he’d have no problem reading them should it be too loud.
With my shoulders pulled back and my head held high, I remind myself that all the world is a stage, and I paint an easy, breezy smile on my face.
“Hey, hey …” I make my way to their high-top table with a confident bounce in my step.
“Blaire, this is Gretchen, Tessa, Stefanie, and you remember Raina, right?” Ivy asks, her manicured fingers wrapped around a half-finished foamy beer in a boot-shaped glass.
“Of course,” I say to Raina before turning to the other girls. Some look vaguely familiar, like I might have gone to school with them but perhaps they were older or younger than me. “So great to see everyone!”
“Blaire, it’s so nice to see you in Whiskey Springs again. Thank you so much for coming out tonight,” Raina says. She leans into me, wrapping her arms around me so tight, she almost loses her balance. “It really means the world. They say you learn who your friends are in hard times.”
“She’s a little tipsy,” Ivy mouths with an apologetic wince.
If I were celebrating my divorce, I would be too.
“It’s been way too long.” Raina tucks her sleek dark hair behind one ear, her gray-blue eyes growing borderline watery. “I hate that we lost touch after you moved. And you’re not on Facebook or anything. It’s like you disappeared off the face of the earth. We always wondered what happened …”
Before I have a chance to answer, Ivy slips her arm around my waist and steers me closer to the table, where a line of shots are ready and waiting.