“That must be nice. Well…I’ll tell Aria to give you a call,” Lark says, edging one leg slowly back into our booth in the universal sign for “I’m ready to return to my meal now, please go away,” but Vicky continues to linger.
“And how are you doing?” Vicky asks, with a pointed look in my direction. As soon as her gaze connects with mine, the warmth vanishes from her expression.
Well, if this woman is going to hate me, we might as well be properly introduced.
“Hi, I’m Mason Stewart.” I stand and extend my hand.
“Oh, I know who you are. I sat behind you in Algebra II junior year,” Vicky says, her lips pruning. “But even if I hadn’t, I would know Mason Stewart. Everyone in Bliss River knows who you are…and what you did.”
“Vicky, please,” Lark murmurs beneath her breath.
“You know I’m not one to keep my mouth shut, Lark. You’re like a little sister to me,” she says. “And I wouldn’t consider myself much of a friend to you, or Aria, if I didn’t look this one right in the eye and say shame on you.” She wags a finger in my direction, like I’m a dog who just peed on the carpet. “Shame! On you!”
Lark sighs. “Vicky—”
“You’re right,” I say, cutting her off before she’s forced to defend me again. “What I did to Lark was shameful. Not to mention the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. Luckily, she’s been good enough to give me another chance, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving she made the right call.”
Vicky sniffs, looking somewhat mollified. “Well, at least you know you’re a rat.”
“Was a rat,” I correct with my most charming smile. “And thanks for being such a good friend to Lark. I’m glad she has people who love her enough to finger wag me in public.”
Vicky’s mouth twitches on one side. “Well,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “He always was too smooth and good looking for his own good, but you keep him in line, honey. And make sure that engagement ring is big enough to blind people from fifty feet away.” She leans in, hugging Lark one last time. “See you later, sugar! Don’t forget to tell your sister to call me.”
By the time Vicky finally hustles away to the opposite corner of the restaurant, Lark’s cheeks are bright pink with embarrassment.
“I am so sorry,” she whispers, sliding back into the booth, clutching her coffee like a lifeline.
“Why are you sorry? I’m the rat.”
She shakes her head, keeping her eyes on her cup. “It’s this town. Everybody knows everything about everyone else. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t called all my friends the night you proposed, but—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I cut in. “I did. And I have to deal with the fallout.”
“But you shouldn’t have to put up with people calling you a rat every time we’re out together,” she says. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not so bad.” I shrug. “And it can’t last forever. Within a few months, we should run into everyone who hates me on your behalf. Eventually I’ll have apologized to all of them and we can move on with our lives.”
“I don’t know.” She lifts a dubious brow. “Between the three of us, the March sisters have a lot of friends.”
I smile. “Not surprising. You’re fun people. Even Aria,” I add with a wink.
Lark laughs softly. “Poor Aria. But she’s smart, you know? She’s refused to tell anyone what happened with her and Liam after they moved to Nashville. Not even Mom or Dad. No one’s going to be talking about her behind her back.”
“Of course they will. If they can’t find any factual dirt, they’ll just make something up,” I say. “The gossips in this town don’t have anything better to do. You know that.”
She lifts one shoulder. “Maybe, but at least she has her pride. Everyone won’t be thinking she’s an idiot for going back to the man who made her the most pitied girl in Cobb County.”
I frown, a sour feeling flashing in my chest for the first time this morning.
The waitress chooses that moment to return with our order, and soon the table is covered with hot, greasy, delicious diner food. But when Lark begins to scoop out eggs and grits, I sit with my hands braced on either side of my empty plate.
“What’s wrong?” she asks after a moment.
“Nothing.” I fiddle with my fork.
“Doesn’t look like nothing. You’ve got your curtains face on.”
When I need to, I’m good at keeping my emotions concealed, another skill learned when I was young and had to be careful not to make any of the volatile grown-ups in my house angry. But most people don’t realize that I’ve gone underground. Only Lark has ever noticed when the curtains are drawn.