and it was just a coincidence that they were filming in Destin, how it’s just like the old days and that they should all get together sometime.
Over my dead body.
Brit waits for Tommy to agree, as if she doesn’t remember how badly things between them had ended. When he doesn’t, she picks up the menus and leads us to our usual spot by the windows in back of the dining room.
As we take our seats, I try to push thoughts of Monica out of my mind and focus instead on the people gathered around our table. We’ve had so many good meals and good times here, the three of us. I’m grateful that Abigail is completing our foursome tonight instead of her cheating jerk of a father.
That night we first came here, the four of us, was the first time I suspected that Adam might not be as wonderful and doting as Jill claimed. I remember watching him watch Brit as she bent down to pick up a napkin, putting on a little show.
Not only is Jill better off without Adam, but it seems like she’s finally coming into the person she was always meant to be. She looks ten years younger and so much more carefree than the last time I saw her. “You look great,” I tell her, interrupting whatever conversation I hadn’t been paying attention to.
Jill brings her fingers up to her mouth self-consciously. “I can’t remember the last time I put on lipstick.”
“I keep telling her she should get back out there,” Abigail says.
“There is no ‘there’ here,” Jill says. “Trust me.”
“You wouldn’t know,” Abigail says with a little sass in her voice.
“Have you tried the apps?” I ask.
“The appetizers?” Jill teases.
I laugh, but Abigail just rolls her eyes.
“You know I’m talking about the dating apps—I should set up a profile for you, return the favor.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Jill threatens through a smile.
“You know,” I tell Abigail, “before your uncle Tommy and I started dating, your mom made me sign up for a dating site. But she checked the wrong box.”
“Lex,” Jill warns.
I smile. She doesn’t have to worry about my telling her young, impressionable daughter that she clicked the “casual sex” box on the dating profile. The emails I had gotten—and the pictures. Once I’d realized what had happened, I went online and canceled my account.
“Let’s just say that there were no love connections,” I tell her.
“I beg to differ,” Tommy says, leaning in to give me a quick kiss.
Abigail clearly isn’t ready to close the topic. “Even if you got her on the apps—”
“Never going to happen,” Jill says, interrupting her daughter.
“Even if you got her on the apps,” Abigail repeats, “Mom wouldn’t have any time to go on a date. She’s at the café every day before we wake up, and some days, she’s still there after we go to sleep.”
“Oh, stop,” Jill says, looking flustered.
Even though they’re bickering, I’m a little jealous of their relationship. I can’t imagine CeCe and me teasing each other that easily.
“You make it sound like I’m never there for you guys,” Jill says to Abigail. “I promise, I’m not a terrible mother,” she tells us even though we both know she’s anything but.
“That’s not what I meant,” Abigail says, getting defensive.
“You’re one of the best parents I know,” I tell Jill. “Look how well your daughter turned out!” I hope no one notices that I left Beau out of the equation, but his issues have nothing to do with Jill.
A waitress I don’t recognize approaches our table with a bottle of white wine in one hand, and a plate of Camille’s famous fried green tomatoes topped with lump crabmeat in the other. My mouth waters in anticipation. “Compliments of Brit,” she says.
The waitress opens the bottle and pours a little taste in my glass, since I always seem to be the nominated taster. I swirl it around, smelling it before I take a sip. “It’s perfect, thanks.”
She smiles and fills Jill’s glass, then Tommy’s before hesitating by the empty glass in front of Abigail, who looks at her mom with pleading eyes.
“Not a chance,” Jill says.
The waitress nods, skipping Abigail’s glass before filling mine. She leaves the bottle in a bucket of ice on a tall stand between my chair and Tommy’s.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Abigail says. “You let me have a drink at—” Jill gives Abigail a conversation-stopping look and it actually works. I’m going to have to get Jill