then maybe they wouldn’t be so damned far away from each other.
But the Tennyson of the past hadn’t realized the waves she created would still be rippling around her. Of course, she also hadn’t known her son would go to her father’s alma mater, sit beside a pretty brunette, and fall in love with Melanie and Kit’s daughter.
But that was the way of life, right? A gal had to live with the decisions she’d made—both good and bad—and try, try to find some peace.
Yet she wasn’t sure it would ever be possible after what she’d done at Melanie and Kit’s wedding reception. But as her mother loved to say, “If wishes were fishes, we’d all be throwing nets.”
“So what do you think? I had an off-the-shoulder swing dress I was going to wear for the shower, but I like the vibe of this one,” Tennyson said, dashing away her regrets. Because regrets were always there. They were in the faint lines she tried like hell to erase on her face, in the memories that refused to leave her alone, in the check she wrote every month.
“I like this one. I wouldn’t think that color would do well on you, but it’s nice. And it doesn’t look like you’re a teenager,” Melanie said.
“Gee, thanks.”
“You know, you’re prettier when you don’t try so hard, Tennyson.”
“And you’re prettier when you stop trying to hide yourself.” Tennyson looked at Melanie in the mirror. “Get the Carolina Herrera. You look good in it.”
Melanie’s eyes brightened. “You think so? I’m going out of town with Kit, and a new dress might be nice.”
“When?”
“At the end of next week. Right before the shower. Kit has a conference in Destin, and I’m going down for a few days,” Melanie said, looking at her in the reflection of the mirror. “You don’t need help with the shower, do you?”
Melanie’s expression was sincere, the way it had always been. If someone needed help with something, from cleaning her room and making spirit goody bags to volunteering as the designated driver, Melanie had always been willing to pitch in and help. But then Tennyson could see in Melanie’s face that she’d forgotten they weren’t friends and were instead enemies because she frowned, shook her head, and stepped away.
“I’m paying Marc Mallow enough that everything should be taken care of. But it’s nice of you to ask. I want Emma and Andrew to enjoy being showered with gifts and well wishes. They’re our kids.”
For a moment their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror. Melanie looked like she wanted to say something. Now was the time for Tennyson to apologize. To say she shouldn’t have done what she did. She opened her mouth, but something shifted in Melanie’s eyes. Something hard returned, and the moment was over.
Melanie turned away. “They’ll have other wedding showers. My book club and a few of the moms from the PTA are doing a Rock Around the Clock shower.”
“I know. Marc told me that one of her friends called about the bachelorette party, and he had a brilliant idea.” Tennyson tapped the fastener on the nape of her neck. “Would you?”
Wordlessly, Melanie reached out and unzipped her, retreating to her own dressing room as if she’d slipped up too much and now had to gather herself and mount her normal defensiveness.
This was what they had come to—two former friends who could never find their way back to one another. Because of a man. Because of ego. Because one of them had destroyed what they’d been with words that should have never seen the light of day.
It was something Tennyson couldn’t change.
No matter how much she wished she could.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Melanie sat out in the driveway of her mother’s house, checking the time on her phone and tapping on the steering wheel. Her mother’s gardener was pulling out the scraggly snapdragons that should have gone weeks ago and replacing them with jolly red begonias. The June sun had gotten warm quickly, reminding her she needed to pick up some sunscreen before she headed to the beach in a few days. She didn’t need to go to the bridal shower looking like a lobster.
Not to mention she’d found no swimsuits on sale in her size. Which meant she’d paid full price for the stupid one-piece she’d be taking to the beach. Of course, she didn’t feel too guilty because she hadn’t had a new swimsuit in five years, and the elastic was shot in her old one, anyway. Her