Page 66 of Truth or More Truth
“I knew you would be. I wanted to tell you at the wedding, but this one,” he jerks his head toward his wife as I let him go, “refused to let me.”
“That’s not true.” Wendy tosses a throw pillow in his direction, but it falls short. Athletic, she is not.
“You’re right. It’s not.” He drops the bags on the small kitchen table. “We decided ahead of time to only tell Ash and Leslie. Didn’t want to overshadow their big day.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” I hold out a hand to Wendy and pull her up off the couch. She’s already acting like she’s gained fifty pounds with this pregnancy, which is kind of cute.
“So you know our secret.” Randall grabs plates out of the cabinet and sets them on the table. “Now it’s time for us to hear yours.”
“My secret?” I point to myself. “What secret?”
“About what you and Bobby got up to at the wedding.” He grins as he pours water into glasses.
My face burns. “Um, you saw us coming out of that office.”
“Yes, and coming out of your car.” He chuckles. “Anything else to share?”
I sigh as I unwrap my burger and put it on my plate. “No. We each went to our own rooms when we got back to the hotel, and then when I opened my door early the next morning, it wasn’t him but Diego standing there. That’s the end of the story.”
“It’s not.” Wendy dumps the entire container of French fries onto her plate. “He left you a note. And he just now told me he’s going to call you. In time.”
“Bobby called?” Randall tries to grab a fry off Wendy’s plate, but she smacks his hand away.
“Yeah, I’ll fill you in on the details later, but he told me to tellour impatient little friend here that he’s sorry he hasn’t called yet, but he’s going to.”
Wendy heaves herself out of her chair with a groan and takes the few steps to the refrigerator. After moving a few things around inside, she holds up a container of mustard like it’s the holy grail. Then she empties what must be half the bottle onto the fries.
So much for me trying to steal any fries away from her. “That is disgusting.”
She holds a mustard-laden fry aloft. “It’s delicious. And now neither of you will try to pilfer any of my fries.”
“They were supposed to be all of our fries,” Randall mutters.
“What did you say, dear husband?”
“I said I hope you enjoy your fries, my gloriously beautiful Glinda.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“So, Melissa,” Randall’s attention turns back to me, “are you prepared to move to L.A. if things work out with you and Bobby?”
I nearly choke on my burger. “What?”
“He lives there. You live here.” He points in opposite directions. “Somebody’s going to have to move if you want to be together long-term. Are you willing to move out west?”
It’s not like I haven’t thought about the long-distance aspect, because it’s been top of mind, but I haven’t thought seriously about whether I’d be willing to move to California. “I don’t know.”
“You just moved back here a year ago,” Wendy says. “It’s understandable if you don’t want to move again.”
I shake my head. “It’s not about moving, in general. And it’s not even that I’m opposed to living in California. It’s that I moved back here because it’s where my parents are. I don’t really want to leave again, especially with my dad not in the best health.”
“I get that.” Randall gets up and grabs a beer out of the fridge. “But what if Bobby can’t move here?”
“Randall.” Wendy’s tone is terse.
“What? I’m just asking.”
I look back and forth between them. “What I’m reading between the lines is that Bobby isn’t in a position to move here. Is that right?”
