He lifted his beer to his lips and took a deep mouthful. Weird how those thoughts came out of nowhere, washing over him like an ocean wave. He shook his head to dislodge them, not wanting to entertain the thoughts anymore.
Three years. That was a long time.
Too long to still be feeling like shit. He took another drink to chase the melancholy away.
“How’s retirement treating you?” he asked, turning to Wallace. “Is your golf getting any better?”
“Better than your dad’s,” Wallace replied, not batting an eyelid at James’s quick change of direction. “But that’s not much of a stretch now, is it?”
“I take exception to that,” James’s dad shouted from the grill. “I beat you the other week.”
James leaned back on his chair, listening to the two of them bicker. Deenie was leaning across the table to talk to Lucas, and Ember was smiling at them both. Only his own mom was still looking at him, her lips pressed together. He smiled at her and she smiled back, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
He was still alive, still breathing. And some days he could laugh with the best of them. He wasn’t sure what else he could do to prove to her he was doing okay.
Maybe nothing.
6
“So our next game is guess the size of the bump,” Ember’s mom, Laura, called out across the Beach Club ballroom. “Everybody write their guesses down and I’ll measure her. The closest person wins a bottle of champagne.”
“If you win, the champagne it’s mine, okay?” Caitie whispered to Harper as they both wrote down a number. “I think I need it.”
“I could do with a drink myself.” Harper grinned. “It’s hard being the designated driver for nine months.”
Caitie lifted her own glass, filled with chardonnay. “It’s okay, I’ll drink enough for both of us.” She took a sip and closed her eyes, sighing once the wine had gone down. “Cheers.”
The party had been going for a couple of hours. They’d already played four games, and Ember had opened the gifts they’d all bought from the registry she and Lucas had created. The wine had been flowing all afternoon, making the guests a little giggly. The only two people who hadn’t touched a drop were Harper and Ember, both for the same reason.
“It was nice of Ember to invite me,” Harper said. “She didn’t have to.”
“Of course she did. You’re a friend. And you live in Angel Sands now, so you’re also a neighbor.” Caitie shrugged. “Anyway, she sent you the invite when you were still living in L.A., because she likes you. Everybody does.”
Harper couldn’t help but feel warmed by that. She’d been overwhelmed by the kindness everybody had shown her since she’d moved to Angel Sands. Every time she walked into the coffee shop or the hardware store it was as though she was a minor celebrity. People were always so happy to see her.
“Okay, let’s see your numbers,” Ally said, leaning over the table to look at Caitie and Harper’s guesses of the size of Ember’s bump. “Twenty five inches?” she asked Caitie when she read her scrap of paper. “Really? I don’t think her waist is that small even without a baby inside.” She gave a little laugh. “Don’t tell her I said that though.”
Caitie shook her head, though the smile remained on her lips. “It’s a good job you’re her best friend. Anyway, I’m trying to be nice. Who wants to be told their stomach looks like it’s forty inches wide? This is sisterhood. We build each other up, right?”
Ally wrinkled her nose. “That’s true.” She quickly scrubbed out her own guess and revised it down considerably. “I’m going to say thirty. Not too big, not too small.”
“And no chance of winning the champagne,” Brooke pointed out, her voice deadpan.
“What have you got, Harper?” Caitie asked her, leaning over the table to look at her paper.
“Thirty five and a half inches.”
Caitie opened her mouth to reply when she was drowned out by the squeal of the microphone.
“Okay, has everybody guessed?” Ember’s mom called out, feedback scratching through her voice. “Okay, Ember, come here and let me measure you.”
Ember groaned good-naturedly, but walked over anyway, letting her mom wrap a measuring tape around her waist. She caught Brooke and Ally’s eyes and the two of them started to giggle. “She hates this,” Brooke whispered. “Poor Ember.”
“It’s thirty five and a half inches,” her mom called out. “Who’s the closest? Do we have a winner?”
Ally turned to Caitie and then Harper, her mouth dropping open. “Oh my god, you were spot on,” she said. “How did you know the size?”
“I can tell by looking,” Harper admitted. “I’m a dressmaker. I measure people all the time. Is that cheating?”