Her eyes shiny, the woman steps forward to embrace Sal. The hug is warm and familiar and Sal lets herself sink into the calming touch. “Oh, Sal, sweetheart ... you’ve never called me Mrs. Kincaid your entire life, so don’t you start now. Diane, you hear?”
Sal leans back and smiles. “Diane.”
Diane holds Sal tight by the shoulders, her soft blue eyes evaluating her. “There are no words for this. To see you again ...” She turns her teary smile to her son. “Oh, Luke. You have your precious girl back.”
“Okay, Diane,” a gruff voice interjects. “You’re hogging her.” Vaughn steps up to pull Sal into a crushing bear hug. When she’s released, Vaughn turns a wry eye toward Luke. “Our son’s been keeping you all to himself.”
Luke’s lips tighten. “I told you, Pop, she wasn’t ready.”
Diane’s smile is bright. “Completely understandable.”
Vaughn grunts.
Sal presses a steady hand against Luke’s chest, telling him it’s okay. Luke catches her hand up, kisses it, and then cups it against his heart.
“What am I? Chopped liver?”
The sound of Seth’s deep rumble sends a rush of relief through Sal as some of the attention is taken from her. Hearty hugs and handshakes are exchanged with his mom and dad. Bullshit banter with his brother. Seth presses a beer into Sal’s hands, gives her a get-out-of-here glance.
A flash of fuchsia. Lacey linking her arm through Sal’s. So quick, Sal’s beginning to think Lacey and Seth are working in unison. “I’m stealing her away,” Lacey says, breaking Sal and Luke’s touch.
As Sal’s pulled through the party, she waves at Mort and Jace, who are filling up red Solo cups with beer. She floats between people, between friends and family who all hug and kiss her happily. And she finds herself wishing she were as confident about herself as all these people who know her are.
Lacey introduces her to a group of paramedics Sal used to work with. An all-female team: Tawny, Eleanor and Kendall.
“We were like Charlie’s Angels,” Tawny says, her lion’s mane of golden hair swirling around her head.
“Only suturing instead of sexing,” Kendall says dryly. She’s drinking straight vodka, her arms all lean biceps and tattoos.
“Only with four instead of three,” Lacey mutters.
“Irrelevant,” Sal says, liking the camaraderie she already feels.
From her spot across from Sal, Eleanor asks, “Do you think you’ll come back to work soon?”
“Eleanor,” Kendall chides.
Sal lifts a hand. “It’s okay.” She keeps her shrug lighthearted. “I hope to. One day.”
Tawny leans in, her brown eyes wide. “And you don’t remember anything?”
Stomach roiling, Sal shakes her head. “Nothing.”
The women exchange looks, making Sal feel as if she’s always the last one to know.
She snatches a glass of champagne from a tray and drinks it fast, wanting to blur the boundaries of the dizzying conversation. Wanting to feel like she belongs, even though she feels a million miles away from herself. Especially today. Of all days.
“And what about Luke?” Eleanor wiggles her brows roguishly.
Tawny and Kendall smirk.
Sal looks up, unable to stop the bright smile that spreads across her face. “What about Luke?”
Tawny claps her hands together, crows, “I knew it! Look at that face!”
Eleanor’s sigh is practically a swoon. “Oh, it’s so perfect. Long-lost lovers getting reacquainted. I die.”
Lacey rolls her eyes.