Sistine and Kendall exchange a look. Sistine’s says “I told you so,” and Kendall’s is one of pity.
“What could be more important than seeing you?” asked Sistine.
“He owns that tech company. He’s always busy. It’s hard right now, but once he gets it up and running with the right managers, we’ll spend more time together.”
They stare at me like I’m pathetic.
“Stop. Both of you.”
“We think you deserve better,” says Kendall.
“What I deserve is a drink.” I go to the bar and order a Tilted Halo Strawberry Blonde.
“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” says Calista, the barkeep who’s been here since the place opened several years ago. “Sissy said you had a date.”
“Change of plans,” I say as she gives me my drink and I hand her my card. As I walk back to the table, Sistine and Kendall stare at me like we have unfinished business.
“So what did he say?” asks Sistine the moment I sit back down.
“Who?” I ask, sipping my beer and playing dumb, as if Garrett cancelling didn’t bother me.
Sistine rolls her eyes. “Garrett. Ferret. Whatever his name is. Douchebag in Montgomery.”
I take another swig. It’s ice cold and feels great in this stuffy room. “Something came up at work. I didn’t ask for details.”
“Did he at least tell you before you left?” asks Kendall.
“Well, I wasn’t at his house yet.”
“But you drove all the way to Montgomery.” Sistine says it more as a statement than a question.
I sit back with crossed arms and stare at them. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Fine,” says Sistine.
We change the subject and talk about our weeks. Sistine owns the coffee shop a few blocks from here and mentions someone from out of town came in a few days ago, claiming to be an architect who is restoring the old hotel.
“Yeah! I met him too!” I say. “He came to the store today to check out the fountain.”
“That’s amazing!” says Kendall. “I hope they do a good job. My parents said it used to be so beautiful. Too bad it wasn’t fixed up for the movie.”
A big Hollywood picture recently wrapped filming here. Apparently the director had heard of our town and thought it was the most picturesque place for a movie. Kendall doesn’t like to talk about it, but she had a fling with one of the actors.
“They could’ve cast the architect,” says Sistine. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a man so striking.”
“Well, he’ll be back,” I say. “He talked to Nana about buying the fountain.”
“He wasn’t wearing a ring,” says Sistine.
“Are you ready to date again?” Kendall asks Sistine, with a hint of hope in her voice. Sistine married her high school sweetheart, as did our friend Patsy, within months of graduating. Patsy went on to have five boys and a happy marriage. Sistine’s husband was killed in car accident the day Patsy’s first son was born. She and her husband were driving to the hospital to visit the new baby when they were hit, and she still has scars on her scalp and arms from the glass. She hasn’t dated since and refuses to talk about it.
“No. I wasn’t thinking of me,” she says, looking at me and raising her eyebrows.
“I can’t go out with him,” I say. “I have Garrett. Besides, Rhodes is way out of my league.”
“Rhodes?” asks Kendall. “You’re on a first-name basis?”
Sistine doesn’t miss a beat. “Garrett won’t even call you his girlfriend. How long has it been? A year?”
