“Yeah,” Kennedy said, looking confused.
“I need a cigarette,” Mia said.
“You quit.” Gabi pointed a finger at Mia. Then turned to glower at me. “And you didn’t even want company on your birthday.”
“That’s different.”
“And you giggled a minute ago,” Kennedy said. “You actually giggled.”
“Yeah,” Mia agreed. Mia argued before of a courtroom for a living and was normally the most eloquent among us, but even she was lost for words. “I really need a cigarette.”
Everyone’s eyes were glued to me, waiting to hear more. I swallowed, but it did nothing to loosen the lump lodged in my throat. The longer I sat in silence, the less I felt like explaining myself.
Thatcher came to my rescue. “I think it’s great Beckett loaned you his dog. And he likes limericks. There was this guy in Freetown.” A nostalgic expression crossed his face. “A local. He used to come up with the craziest poems to make us all laugh.” Thatcher’s eyes flashed with humor, then dimmed as he went inside himself, no doubt revisiting his Army days in Sierra Leone. A moment later, he shrugged off his memories and smiled at me. “I get you don’t want to talk about what happened. You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. We’re still here for you, right?” Thatcher glanced around the group, giving them that big-brother eye-lock he’d perfected.
“Absolutely,” Mia said. “We completely understand. And we are here for you no matter what. I’m going to look into cases of date rape and see if there are any suspects on the loose.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I hugged my knees to my chest. “I think it was just a silly prank.”
“It wasn’t very funny. I’m glad to check into it. I have to go back to the office anyway.”
“It’s Sunday,” Gabi said.
“You’re the only one who doesn’t work on Sundays,” Kennedy said, pointing at Gabi. “I taught a workshop this morning for four hours.” She rolled her shoulders with a grimace. “Thatcher was at the store, and I’m sure Sloane had a brunch or something.”
Sloane nodded, reaching for a carrot stick. “A fiftieth anniversary party.” She crunched into the carrot, looking wistful. “It was so sweet,” she said.
Kennedy patted Sloane’s knee. “You’ll find the perfect man someday. Don’t worry.”
“Hopefully, I won’t be eighty years old when I find him. These eggs aren’t getting any younger.”
“You’re only twenty-eight,” Gabi said. “You have plenty of time.”
“Easy for you to say.” Sloane pointed a carrot stick at Gabi. “You had a ten-year-old son when you were my age.”
“I didn’t exactly plan it.” Gabi grabbed a carrot stick for herself and dredged it through the bowl of hummus. “You never know what will happen.”
“You could meet the man of your dreams tomorrow,” Kennedy said. “You just need to make sure you’re open to receiving him.”
Sloane laughed. “I’m on every dating site known to man. If I was any more open, my vulva would be wearing a vacancy sign.”
“You should really try those Ben Wa balls I told you about,” Gabi suggested. “Make sure you don’t dry up.”
Thatcher groaned and smacked his beer on the coffee table. “I really need to get another man in this group.”
“You didn’t seem to mind being the only man at the yoga retreat last month,” Kennedy said.
Everyone erupted in laughter.
As the attention transferred away from me, my shoulders relaxed. Aslan settled his head against my leg, and I scratched behind his ear. As everyone chatted, my mind drifted back to Beckett, where it seemed determined to dwell.
Book Review of “Beneath the Stars” by Miranda Lockhart
By Lacey Donovan, blueridgebookclub.com
2.5 stars
4 fire extinguishers
