“I know.” My eyes fall to the invitation again. Pink and gleaming, like some cruel joke. “But part of me kinda wants to.”
He tilts his head, watching me closely. “Why?”
“Closure, maybe. Or to prove they didn’t break me.”
He offers a crooked smile. “Then don’t go alone. Let them see you walk in on my arm, looking radiant and unfazed.”
I blink at him. “You’d come?”
His smile softens. “Beth, I’d walk into a fire for you.”
The knot in my throat loosens. I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his, breathing in his quiet strength.
Eventually, I pull back and slide the invitation into its envelope. “I need to think.”
“Take your time. Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”
He pulls me into his arms, and I let myself rest there. For the first time since seeing Clark’s last name, I can breathe.
***
The next morning, I call Lori.
She answers on the second ring. “Please tell me this is the ‘I’m leaving that godforsaken town and moving back in with your favorite wine witch’ call.”
“Tempting,” I murmur. “But not quite.”
She picks up immediately on the shift in my tone. “Uh-oh. What happened?”
“I got an invitation.”
She doesn’t need clarification.
“Oh, come on,” she snaps. “That woman is a Telenovela villain. Was this her idea of a punchline?”
“Seems so.”
“And your mother is helping throw it?” she practically yells. “Has she hit her head? This is next-level betrayal, even for her.”
“I know,” I mumble.
“Don’t tell me you’re even thinking about showing up.”
I pause.
“Beth.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Part of me thinks it might give me closure.”
“Did Jack agree with that?”
I almost laugh. “He said I should show up with him on my arm, head held high.”
There’s a beat. Then: “…Okay, as revenge plans go, that’s not bad.”
A small smile tugs at my lips.
“But seriously,” Lori says, softer now. “Are you okay?”
