What She Found - Emerald O'Brien Page 0,2

whines. “Now can we please get back to the game?”

“You’re just eager to take my money again,” Matt calls over Cassy’s huff.

“I think Wes is about to take us all,” Connor says and nods to me. “Wesley’s been in the Ontario poker championship for like eight years in a row, and he won twice, isn’t that right?” He smacks Wesley on the back and gives me another tight-lipped smile before collecting his cards.

I feel the heat of Wesley’s stare. Is he embarrassed too? He must be. I can’t bear to look.

I down the rest of my wine and clear my throat. “What’s a girl gotta do to get one of those shots over here?”

Matt laughs and turns over his shoulder. “Just say the magic word!”

“Whiskey?” I call.

Arland shakes his head and smiles at me, his sharp jawbone and charming features winning me over enough to guess again.

“Tequila?” I ask.

“Ugh, gross,” Liz mutters in her smooth, mature voice, but shoots me a smile. It’s the first time she’s spoken since we returned from the tasting, and some of the tension melts away with her words.

“Try again,” Matt says.

“Please?” I ask. I’m ready to beg as they turn back to the counter and fiddle with some bottles.

“So, Tabbie,” Liz says, leaning forward. “Have you gotten the rest of your things yet?”

From Derek’s house.

Our house?

What do I even call the place I called home for over five years now? It’s not going to be mine anymore once Derek buys me out.

I shake my head and turn back to the men, pretending to be more interested in whatever concoction they’re creating.

“Your apartment’s way too small for all your things. Have you decided where you’re going to buy yet?” Cassy asks, but her eyes are still set on Matt at the counter as she twists one of her ringlets around her finger.

“Nope.” I reach for my glass, only to remember it’s empty as my fingers wrap around it.

“That’s gotta be tough,” Liz says, tucking her smooth hair behind her ear, and I want to disappear.

Why are they bringing this up in front of everyone? In front of Wesley, a stranger to us all but Connor.

“Thinking about staying in the area?” Cassy asks. “I’d miss you if you went too far.”

“No, come to the countryside,” Liz says, raising her voice. “Oh, it would be perfect!”

Yeah. I’m sure life would be great if I could afford to keep living in the city, but on my new single income, I’ll be lucky to afford a small place in the burbs, never mind the beautiful township Liz and Arland live in. I can’t say that, though. Liz would never understand with all her money, and they’d all just feel sorry for me, sorrier, if it’s possible.

I don’t need pity. I need booze.

“No way,” Cassy says, “that would be even farther from your office.”

“Ugh, don’t mention work.” I rub my temples at the thought of returning to the giant pile of paperwork that will be waiting for me on my desk as it does at the end of every summer vacation.

“What do you do?” Wesley asks.

I hate telling people. No one understands what I do even after I explain it.

“I’m an assistant admin for the municipal resident services coordinator,” I say, and his brow furrows. I sigh, ready to get the rest of my feeble attempt at an explanation over with. “Which basically means my boss is responsible for the unit rental process in our municipality—rent geared to income—so I maintain all the tenant files and records. It’s boring. ”

“She helps the less fortunate,” Liz says. I hate when she reduces it to that, making me sound like a saint for keeping paperwork up to date, and oblivious to the fact that I’m not much unlike the less fortunate she speaks of. “And you can commute a little farther if it could mean having your own piece of land. I know you’d love that.”

Cassy squints at Liz, then turns to me. “But the twins. They’d miss you too much.”

“Twins.” Wesley stares at Cassy with his piercing green eyes, and it’s finally safe to look at him.

His sharp facial features and great build could mean he models in his spare time, when he’s not working with Connor at the auto plant. He’s probably conceited, having people fawn over him all the time.

“Twins,” Matt echoes and turns around with Arland, carrying a long, rectangular tray of shot glasses filled with amber liquid.

Seven.

Have they already forgotten Wesley doesn’t drink?

I wonder why he doesn’t