Say It's Not Fake - Sarah J. Brooks Page 0,14

The truth was I had purposefully kept to myself because while I had missed the comforting familiarity of Southport and the good memories I had here, I wasn’t keen to reintroduce myself to the gossip mill.

I knew I was already the talk of the town the moment I moved back. I had been peppered with questions about why I came home, considering I had such a rewarding career as a Hollywood makeup artist. I was a Southport success story. Yet here I was—buying my parents’ house and working as a receptionist at my brother-in-law’s law firm. I didn’t have Meg’s excuse of being in love and wanting to start a family. No one could figure out why I’d leave the excitement of the west coast for hole-in-the-wall Pennsylvania.

It was almost like I was running from something.

The less I gave people something to talk about, the better. So, I had stuck to myself.

But needs must be met and all that.

“That sounds great. Maybe give your sister a call,” Mom suggested.

“I doubt my very pregnant sister would want to come hang out with me in a bar,” I snorted.

But then Mom and I shared a look, and both of us started laughing. I pulled out my phone and fired off a quick text to Meg. “You’re right. Of course, she’ll want to come.”

“If you didn’t ask her, she’d get very offended,” Mom stated sagely, knowing—just as I did—how mercurial Meg’s moods were, particularly now you paired it with late-stage pregnancy.

My sister’s response was almost instant.

Of course! I’ll meet you there in ten!

“Well, there you have it. It looks like I need to go get changed.” I paused, turning to my new neighbor. “It was nice seeing you again, Leonard.”

“All my friends call me Leo.” His smile was warm. He was clearly a likable guy, but the jury would stay out for a long time if he were hoping to be in my mom’s life.

“Okay then, Leo.” I leaned down and kissed my mother’s cheek. “I won’t be late,” I promised.

“Be as late as you want. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone.” She raised her eyebrows, and I swallowed the exasperated sigh. I knew she desperately wanted me to do normal things like date, get married, have children. She had no idea how impossible that felt for me. She wasn’t privy to the dark places of my life. Some things I had to keep close—under lock and key.

I didn’t bother to respond, so with a final goodbye, I hurried to my room to change out of my work clothes so I could meet my sister.

**

“I mostly came to see if body snatchers had swapped my older sister for someone fun,” Meg teased, sipping her lemonade as we sat in a booth at the back of the packed bar. She had ordered me my old favorite—a Midori Sour. I had gotten shit faced on them at the field party after my high school graduation. Meg had no way of knowing that I hadn’t touched one since that night.

I took a sip, trying not to grimace. “Ha, ha. Well, it was that or stay home and watch our mother make goo-goo eyes at the new neighbor.” I pushed the cocktail away, hoping Meg wouldn’t be insulted if I didn’t drink it.

Her eyes widened twice their normal size, and she coughed. “Excuse me … Mom was doing what now?”

“Do you remember Leonard Ship?” Meg shook her head. I shrugged. “Apparently he used to be on Dad’s parks and rec basketball team. He bought the house across the street—”

“The Vaughn’s place?” Meg asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Anyway, he came over to say hi to Mom, apparently. They ended up sharing a bottle of wine and are probably enjoying Chinese takeout right about now,” I told her blandly.

Meg rested her hands on her pronounced belly. She tended to rub it when she was amped up about something. “This is huge, Whit. I wasn’t sure Mom would ever be ready to date again. But I know she’s been so lonely. It’s better now that you’re back, but I can tell.”

“Yeah, me too. But it’s weird, right?” I looked to my sister for confirmation that I wasn’t the only one off-kilter at the idea of our mother dating someone that wasn’t our father.

Meg nodded, taking another long sip of her lemonade. “Oh, definitely. It’s totally weird.”

We let that sit between us for a while, the quiet building up. Once upon a time, Meg and I had been really close. Best

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