this up already?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer. “Okay, I’m on my way to Jackson’s now. Meet me there in ten minutes.” Before I could argue she’d hung up. I tossed my phone in the passenger seat and swiped at my face, which was a hopeless mess. But she was waiting for me, so I put the Jeep in gear and drove to our hangout.
Jackson’s looked like a completely different place on a Friday night. The lights were brighter, and it looked less like a dive bar and more like a knockoff of a national chain bar and grill. Half an hour, three orders of mozzarella sticks, a couple beers, and most of a pizza later, Stacey sat back in her seat in our booth. “Well,” she said. “You’re sure as hell not going to Faire this weekend. You don’t need to deal with that crap.”
Gratitude rushed through me and I sagged against the table. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.” I took a sip of beer. “I thought everyone was going to hate me now.”
“What, because I’ve known Simon longer?” She scoffed. “Please. Wenches before . . . well, something that refers to guys that rhymes with ‘wenches.’” She grinned at me, and I managed a watery laugh. “Don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about Faire. The Maryland Renaissance Festival starts up this weekend too. Everyone who wants to go to a Renaissance faire is heading over to that side of the state. These last couple weekends are usually pretty slow. Besides, you have our volunteers whipped into such good shape we could probably both take the weekend off and no one would notice.”
“Oh, yeah. Simon would love—” The thought had come so naturally that for a second there I’d forgotten what had happened between us. Making fun of Simon had become one of my favorite things to do this summer, second only to kissing him. Now, though . . . now we were nothing. How was I supposed to live in this town with him in it?
“Hey.” Stacey reached across the table and laid a hand on my arm. “Quit thinking. It’s going to be okay.”
I nodded dully, then focused more clearly on her hand on my arm. “Your nails are all fancy.” She wasn’t one to get manicures, but tonight they were extravagant French tips. Not exactly period for Faire tomorrow, but like she said, if it wasn’t as busy maybe no one would notice. But now I took in her entire appearance. Her hair fell in tousled blond curls, and even in this lighting I could tell she was rocking a perfect smoky eye. “You have plans tonight, don’t you?” I narrowed my eyes as she took her hand back and looked a little guilty. “A date. Please tell me you didn’t cancel to watch me cry in my beer.”
She waved one of those perfectly manicured hands. “He can wait a little bit. Had to make sure you were okay.” She peered at me. “Are you?”
“I am. Really.” I was lying. I also wanted to know who her date was with. Mitch? No. He’d been out with me at Jackson’s a couple weekends before, and she’d had “plans” then too. Besides, I could see Mitch now, leaning against the bar on the other side of Jackson’s, a beer in his hand, talking to a cute little brunette.
I decided to let it go. This town had few enough secrets as it was; may as well let Stacey keep one if she had it. So instead I pushed Stacey out the door for her date, paid the check, and went home.
“Hey.” April barely glanced up from the TV when I walked in, which was probably for the best. “You just missed Mom. She called to invite herself and Dad down for Thanksgiving. I think this is gonna be a downside to you and me living in the same town . . . whoa.” Now she peered at me. “Are you okay? You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” I dropped down on the couch beside her. “I broke up with Simon.” Speaking the words out loud for the first time made it real, the way it hadn’t been before, and all the pizza-and-beer therapy I’d had with Stacey went out the window.
“What?” April grabbed for the remote, turning off the TV. “You were out on a date with him. What happened?”
“We never made it to dinner.” I stared at our reflections in