Page 77 of Sing Your Secrets
twenty-three
Reese
“Did he take it like a man when you punched him in the throat?” Mani asks as she dunks the corner of her curry-filled pastry in a plastic cup of clear broth. She pops the rest of the samosa in her mouth before bunching her fingers together and kissing the tips in the universal chef’s kiss sign. “What is this new dipping sauce they’re putting in orders? I could drink this stuff.”
I blink at her. “I didn’t punch Petey in the throat.”
“Missed opportunity,” Noa grumbles from across the room.
“Agreed,” Mani says to Noa before pointing her finger at me, her bright yellow polish still visible in dim lighting. “We’re not going to let you get sucked back in.”
“Sucked back where?” I ask. “Right in between him and his fiancée?”
“Would you put it past him? I don’t care what the official record says, he cheated. You guys”—Mani makes air quotes with her fingers—“were on a break when you moved home. You made new friends and worked on yourself. He stuck his dick in every groupie like he had a mystery key and wasn’t sure which mailbox belonged to him.” Pinching her fingers, as if she’s holding a fictitious key, Mani stabs at the air and twists her wrist.
Barely lifting my eyes from my lap, I give Mani my most unimpressed expression. “Well, that’s a visual no one needs.”
“Reese, how do you feel about everything? Honestly?” Noa asks as she scowls at the cat in her lap purring so loud it sounds like someone parked a Ford F150 in the middle of girls’ night. Actually, Felices’s Savannah cat size means he can take up two and a half laps. He’s sort of draped over her like a throw blanket. “Addie, I think your cat is trying to mate with me.”
Addie snorts. “Oh, yeah,” she says, nodding at the furry heap that’s nuzzled so deep into Noa’s lap that it looks painful. “He’s absolutely putting the moves on you. Last week his obsession was Quinny, this week you’re up. What can I say? My cat’s a little slutty.”
“Wow,” Noa mumbles, but pats his head anyway, letting him lounge on her in peace.
“I’m fine, honestly,” I interject.
“You’re fine?” Quinn asks, making a disapproving noise from her seat to my left.
“What?” My snappy tone is fully intended. I know that noise. I also know I’m about to hear a lecture I probably don’t want to.
“Okay,” she says, pairing it with an exasperated sigh. Snatching the remote off the coffee table, she pauses our show right in the middle of a particularly randy sex scene on the screen. Nice. Of all the characters in Sex and the City, Samantha resonates with me the most. Not because I want to be her kindred spirit, but because I’m worried that’s exactly where I’ll be in my forties if I don’t figure out what I want from a relationship. “You meet Miles, you sleep with Miles, then your dad says you can’t be with Miles if you want them to make an album. That’s already a mind game in itself, but then enter Petey, who is buying you flowers and obsessed with getting your forgiveness…yet he’s engaged? Reese, none of this makes sense. Your head must be spinning. Why are you trying to play cool around us?”
“I’m not playing anything. I’m actually fine. Look!” I hold up my palms. “I’ve spent so much time hurt about Petey, angry at Petey, trying to shut Petey out. It’s just been Petey, Petey, Petey for the past fucking decade of my life. I’m sick of it. And I thank my lucky stars I met Miles before finding out Petey’s engaged. I’ll admit, it softens the blow a little bit because, for the first time, I can kind of picture a happy ever after…with someone else.”
“I get that,” says a low grumbly male voice. We all whip our heads around to see Joel, not in his usual working-late Friday attire—neat slacks and a semi-wrinkled dress shirt. He’s in sweats and a T-shirt, with a beer in hand, watching us from the kitchen. “What?” he asks, looking at all our bewildered expressions.
“I thought you like to work late on Fridays?” Quinn asks. “You’ve been here the whole time?” Usually, we only see Joel as he’s getting home. He grabs a snack and makes himself scarce until we leave.
“Baby,” Addie singsongs, “it’s girls’ night. You’re supposed to be heading out. Where’s Cody?”
“With Sawyer,” Quinn answers for Joel. Normally, Quinn’s husband and Addie’s fiancé are attached at the hip, but Cody’s been spending more quality time with Quinn’s younger brother lately—just worming his way permanently into her family’s heart.
Joel tips the bottom of his beer bottle to the ceiling. “Oh, come on. I live here. You guys can’t kick me out of my own home every Friday night.”
It is kind of mean. Joel is the biggest homebody I’ve ever seen, second only to his fiancée. If he’s not traveling for work he likes to be comfortable at home, and for about the past two months, we’ve been forcing him to either hide or actually go out and participate in the world on Friday nights.
I snort and scooch over on the couch, leaving plenty of space to my left. “Come on, Money Bags, you’re officially invited to girls’ night.”
“Thank you, Pieces,” Joel emphasizes, borrowing Addie’s nickname for me. After fetching another beer from the fridge, he plops down on the couch next to me and hands me the cold brew.
“So, you heard the whole story, then?” I ask him.
Pulling his glasses off, he tosses them onto the table. “Tried not to, but your guys’ voices carry.”
“Meaning you were eavesdropping.”
“Yup. Sue me. I was bored locked up in my dungeon back there.” Jutting his thumb over his shoulder, he gestures to the long hallway that leads to his and Addie’s bedroom.
“Dungeon? Our bedroom has a minibar, a sitting area, and a theatre sound system hooked up to the TV,” Addie says with a chuckle as she cuddles their youngest cat baby, Kitty.