“That’s my girlfriend, Andrew. Never say anything like that about her again. I won’t go into all the ways what you just said is untrue, but you have no idea what you’re talking about. None at all.”
“Girlfriend? Hmph.”
The doorbell rang before either of us could say anything else, which was for the best. If I had to spend another minute with him, one of us would end up bloody, and I highly doubted it would be me.
While Andrew was getting the door, I poured myself a Bloody Mary from the pitcher Miranda had set out in the kitchen, adding my own extra dose of vodka. I’d need it to get through brunch with my father and whoever else they’d invited to join us.
A hand lay between my bunched shoulders. I spun, expecting Helen, and was severely disappointed. “Abby, what the hell are you doing here?”
She kept her hand on me, sliding to my bicep. “That’s some greeting, The. Wow.”
“It wasn’t a greeting, it was a question. Why are you here?”
She didn’t drop her hand, but a fraction of the spark in her eyes faded. “Andrew and Miranda invited my parents and me for brunch. I didn’t think it would be a problem since we’ve both moved on.”
I gave her hand a pointed look. “Have you moved on? Really?”
A slow smile spread across her pink lips, and all I could think about was the kiss she stole the last time we were in close vicinity and the sickness I felt when Helen had to see Abby’s gloss on my mouth.
“Of course I have. Did you really think I’d be pining after you forever?”
“Good. I’m glad for you.” I said the words, but there was something I didn’t like behind her smile. It read false to me.
“Are you?” She stepped closer, tilting her head back to peer into my eyes. “There isn’t some small part of you twisting into knots when you hear I’m with someone else?”
Shrugging her off, I backed away. “Absolutely no part. Like you said, I’ve moved on.”
I strode from the kitchen, finding Helen with Miranda and Abby’s mom, Jill. They were talking about Helen’s dress when I joined them, hooking my arm around Helen’s waist. Jill gave pause at the sight of me with someone other than her daughter, but she kept her opinions to herself, thankfully.
“We were shopping in this little boutique Madeline found online.” Miranda bit her bottom lip, but it didn’t stop her chin from quivering. “She was always finding little places like that, taking me on adventures. I miss so much about her, but our adventures might be the thing that tops the list.”
Jill’s gaze swept over Helen. “It’s lovely that Madeline’s treasures are getting the chance to live another life. That dress looks so pretty on you, Helen. Madeline would undoubtedly approve.”
“Thank you for telling me the story behind the dress, Miranda.” Helen squeezed my hand at her hip. “And, Jill, I hope she would approve. She was always teasing me for wearing cutoffs and holey Vans.”
Miranda swiped a knuckle under her made-up eye. “Oh, please. Mads would have been wearing Vans and skateboarding with you if she’d been up to it. That sounds exactly like her.”
Helen laughed. “She made me take her to the skate park so she could watch, so I have no doubt that’s true. Her Vans wouldn’t have been holey, though.”
Miranda released a watery laugh. “Oh, that’s very accurate.”
Abby approached our group, holding out a Bloody Mary to her mother. “I ran into The in the kitchen, and he had the best idea.” She raised her drink, then took a sip. “Mmm...this is delicious, Mir.”
Miranda sobered, her eyes bouncing between Abby and me. “Thanks, sweetheart. Why don’t we all go outside to the patio? I have some absolutely delicious fresh fruit set up.”
The three of them were on their way, but I held Helen back. “I had no idea she’d be here,” I murmured.
“Would you not have invited me?” she asked.
“No. I would have disinvited myself.”
Helen snorted a short laugh. “It’s no biggie, The.”
I groaned at the terrible nickname. It was like nails on a chalkboard to me. “You’re sure? We can leave if you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m sure. She doesn’t bother me. I know you’re with me.” Helen flipped her hair, spilling soft waves of chocolate behind her back. “Was your father awful?”
“Entirely, but I’m used to it.”