Gimme Everything You Got - Iva-Marie Palmer Page 0,116

haven’t been here in so long,” Polly said. “I always go to the Denny’s by the car lot.”

“I love this place,” I said. Why weren’t we talking about what happened? This was worse than if she’d laid into me immediately.

The waitress brought our drinks. Polly took a sip of her iced tea before she slid a long, thin box across the table. “I forgot to give you your maid of honor gift,” she said.

Did she not know what I’d done? Or maybe the gift was a dog turd she’d smushed and wrapped. I tore away the creamy paper and opened the velvet box inside.

“Oh my God,” I said. It was a golden necklace with a floating heart charm. A small emerald sat just above the tip of the heart. It was like one I’d pointed out to my mom last Christmas, knowing I wouldn’t get it. I loved it.

“Your mom gave me some ideas,” Polly said.

I closed the box. “I can’t take this,” I said. “I was more like a maid of dishonor.” I had to get it out in the open. Polly was taking the good stepmom thing too far.

But she just smirked knowingly. It was the first display of something bordering on sarcasm I’d ever seen from her, and I knew, almost with relief, that she was aware of what had happened, and I wouldn’t have to explain it to her.

“Of course, there’s a time and a place for everything . . .” She paused.

I waited, hands wrapped around my Coke, for her to say that now was the time and place where she’d loudly tell all of Veli’s that I was a sex fiend who’d ruined her wedding.

“But who cares?” Polly took another prim sip of her iced tea, and then clapped her hands together to admire the bowl of chicken and rice soup the waitress set before her.

“I do,” I said. “I ruined everything.” My sandwich was in front of me and my stomach rumbled, but I didn’t want to take a bite until Polly had realized how mad she should be.

She neatly dipped her spoon into her soup and lifted it to her mouth. “My mother told me I looked bloated, and that it doesn’t matter your dad is older since I probably can’t have children, because I’m so old. I’m only thirty-five. And my uncle grabbed my ass at the bar.” She dipped her spoon again and swirled it around a bit. “You, on the other hand, made me feel like you’re actually happy to be my stepdaughter. I’m sure it wasn’t fun for you or Joe to be . . . discovered like that. But I’m not a dope. You brought an extremely cute boy to the wedding, and this may be more than I should say, but I know good chemistry when I see it.”

“Saw it,” I said. “That’s over.”

“I won’t be nosy and ask for details. You can tell me if and when you want to. We were worried about you, though, leaving. Your father, too. He thought you went to find Joe, and then we couldn’t find you.”

I hadn’t even thought of that. “I’m sorry to have made you worry.”

“I should be ticked off at you, I know, but I also had this weird thought that this must be what it’s like to have your own family. It’s not just getting fancy photos taken for the mantel. There’s all the stuff you don’t commemorate, too.” She sipped her tea again. “Plus, I made your dad drive by your mom’s house that night to make sure you were okay. There were lights on and I saw you watching TV in your dress.”

“From the street?”

Polly blushed. “No. I peeked in the window. I’ll never forget creeping in the bushes on my wedding night. I assumed you didn’t want company.”

I gulped, touching the velvet jewelry box. The soft texture was soothing. “You did all that?”

She shrugged. “I figured it was an awkward moment for us all, but part of the growing process. I imagine it’s hard to have a parent remarry.”

I plunged into my sandwich, unable to wait any longer. It was perfect, melty and greasy. Once I swallowed the bite, I said, “Are you a real person? How can you be so calm about this?”

“I’m not, really. I have worried every day since we told you we were getting married that I would say the wrong thing to you, or force you to wear a dress you hate, or seem like I’m