Page 22 of The Shape of You


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“Marti?” Spencer asked, taken a bit off guard by the request. “Oh,she’s…she’s a lawyer. She just made partner a few months ago.”

“And how long have you been together?”

“Not quite two years.”

Lucy nodded. “Big wedding?”

Spencer inhaled, let it out slowly, and studied her coffee. “We’renot really having a wedding. We’re just going to go to the courthouse, quickand easy.” When she looked up at Lucy’s confused expression, she elaborated,doing her best to keep her tone light. “Marti isn’t big on fancy celebrationsand stuff. Thinks they’re a waste of money.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think…” Spencer glanced out the window, as if the words she wassearching for would come wandering down the sidewalk. “I always thought a big,fancy, gorgeous wedding would be amazing. All the people I love there. My dadwalking me down the aisle. My bride’s dad walking her.” Spencer looked back atLucy, slightly embarrassed. “Sounds like a Hallmark movie, huh?”

“I think it sounds amazing.”

Spencer let out a dreamy little sigh. “Doesn’t it?”

“And Marti knows that’s the kind of wedding you’d like?”

Spencer shrugged, not quite ready to delve into the details of theanswer, and stayed quiet. Lucy seemed to study her, and Spencer wanted tosquirm in her chair. “What?”

Lucy shook her head. “Nothing.” She sipped her coffee, then seemedto collect herself. Her phone pinged, giving them both something else to focuson. “There’s my guy,” Lucy said, and the way her face changed—softened, atender smile appearing—hit Spencer with a dose of envy that felt like she’dbeen slapped in the face. “Gotta go.” Lucy tipped her cup up and finished herlatte, then stood.

Spencer stayed in her seat. “I’ve got a bit more, so I’m going tohang for a little while. But I had a nice time. Thanks for inviting me out.”

“Thanks for coming.” Lucy surprised her then by leaning down andhugging her tightly. “See you on Friday.”

Spencer watched her go, the spring in Lucy’s step obvious, herface nearly glowing. Try as she might, Spencer couldn’t remember the last timeshe’d dropped everything to go meet Marti. In fact, she couldn’t remember thelast time Marti had texted her from someplace and wanted Spencer to meet her.

Shifting her focus to the others in the coffee shop, she sat ather table and did some people watching. In the corner was a middle-aged mansitting alone and reading a book, the title of which she couldn’t make out.College professor, shethought. Across from him were two women somewhere in their late thirtiesdrinking glasses of wine rather than coffee, both with big smiles, taking turnsleaning toward each other.Oldfriends who don’t see each other as often as they’d like.The nexttable over from Spencer’s, which she hadn’t been able to see when Lucy was inher seat, was occupied by a young man and woman. Both in their twenties orearly thirties. Both looking nervous. She toyed with her mug. He lookedeverywhere but at her.Internetdate. First-timers.

It was a game Spencer enjoyed, one she played often when she hadtime to kill. It had started when she was a kid, whenever they went somewhereeither as a family or just her, her mother, and Travis. Her brother had taken alot of concentration, and young Spencer rarely had the full attention of herparents. She could be in mid-sentence and then one or both of them would simplyturn away to say something to Travis or they’d simply leave while she wastalking, having to chase her brother down or snatch something from his hands(or mouth) that he shouldn’t have. She’d grown up never getting 100 percent ofthe focus, so she began finding ways to amuse herself. Thus, the Who Are Theyand Why Are They Here game, which had carried into her adult life. She did itduring open houses as people inspected the goods for sale. She did it inrestaurants when Marti went on and on about a case she’d talked about half adozen times before. And she still did it when she was out in public with herfamily. She was used to not being listened to; no big deal really. So, she usedthe game to prevent boredom. She used the game to amuse herself.

Tonight, she was using the game to avoid two things: going homeand thinking about Rebecca.

It was only working on one of them.

* * *

Rebecca McCall was a self-assured woman. Being confident had neverbeen an issue for her. Not in elementary school. Not in junior high or highschool. Not even in college. She’d always known what she’d wanted and how bestto get it, and it never occurred to her that she couldn’t do something.

No, confidence had never been an issue.

Until today.

She sat in a booth at Casey’s Lunch Box, a cute little diner onthe west side of town, and fiddled with the white mug that all diners seemed touse for coffee, its ceramic thick and heavy. She spun it slowly in a circle onthe red Formica table and tried her very best not to stare out the windowlooking for any woman who even remotely resembled Beth, her match on the datingsite.

Beth had seemed quite receptive to Rebecca’s lunch datesuggestion, and Rebecca wondered if she thought of the safety nets involved thesame way Rebecca had. One, lunch was a good bet because it limited their time.Not like dinner or drinks after work. Two, it was the middle of the day, so therewould likely be no alcohol involved, which was better for both of them. (Or was it?Rebecca wasnow thinking, second-guessing the decision because a shot of tequila might helpcalm her nerves at the moment.) And three—though this one was only for Rebecca—Casey’swas a good twenty-minute drive from the gym, so she was reasonably sure shewouldn’t accidentally run into one of her colleagues, who would then have amillion questions about why she was sitting alone in a diner that took her halfher lunch hour to get to, with no lunch in front of her.

They were supposed to meet at noon, she and Beth, but a glance ather watch told Rebecca it was now 12:15 and still no sign of her. Not in ahurry to humiliate herself, Rebecca decided she’d give it until 12:30 and thenshe was out of there. If Beth thought it odd that Rebecca hadn’t offered up herphone number for texting, she hid it well, and she didn’t offer hers either.Therefore, the only way they had to contact one another was through the datingsite.

Something could have come up. Rebecca was willing to give Beth thebenefit of the doubt. Maybe her car broke down. Maybe she had a meeting atwork. Maybe she got sick. Any number of reasons that did not involve “decidedshe didn’t want to meet with me after all” were possibilities.

At 12:25, Rebecca pulled her wallet out of her small bag and tookout four dollars to tip the waitress who’d refilled her coffee cup three timesin the thirty-five minutes she had been here…the coffee that now threatened toburst her bladder if she didn’t hit a ladies’ room. Beth was obviously notcoming, and Rebecca didn’t want to admit how disappointed she was. She wasabout to stand up when somebody flopped down into the booth across the tablefrom her, startling her enough to cause a slight intake of breath. She lookedup, expecting to see a very late Beth.

Instead, she was greeted by a very pretty Spencer Thompson.

“Hey. I thought that was you when I came in.” Spencer smiled ather as she set down her napkin-wrapped silverware and a cup with the strawsticking out, then set her placard with the number 16 on it next to the cup.