“I’m glad we understand each other.” Jaime turned away and winked at me. “Want a beer?” he called over his shoulder.
“Sure,” Scott said.
“Okay,” Marty squeaked.
“Rory?” Jaime called through the apartment. “You want a beer?”
That was my cue to enter. I dropped the ball of toilet paper in the trash and smoothed out my shirt. “Sure, thanks, Jaime.” I stepped out of our bedroom and saw Scott’s crumpled face and tense body cowering on the couch. “I see you met Jaime. He’s my roommate.”
Chapter 29
The tense afternoon rolled into a tense evening. Either Marty didn’t sense the strain or it made her uncomfortable, because every now and then she threw out random topics to lighten the mood. “I got a new job waitressing at that bar,” she had said, or “my sister’s new boyfriend is the quarterback of the football team.” But I wasn’t interested, and no one else knew who she was talking about, so the conversation quickly fell flat.
I sneaked into Marissa and Zoey’s room to grab an extra blanket for my guests, and the two of them sat on the bed whispering. “Psst, Rory,” Marissa hissed, curling her index finger. “Come here.”
Squeezing myself onto their bed, I rested my head on Zoey’s shoulder. “Happy Thanksgiving,” I whispered.
“How did this even happen?” Zoey asked. “That’s your ex-boyfriend, right?”
I nodded before responding, my voice flat. “Yep.”
“Is he so close with Marty that she’d invite him on vacation?” Marissa probed.
I leaned back. “I don’t know. I didn’t think so, but I have no idea. He hasn’t responded to any of my emails since I arrived. He didn’t even respond when I broke it off, but Marty told me it was over.”
Marissa leaned over Zoey’s body and stared at me. Her eyes dared me to connect the dots, but I wasn’t ready.
“Were they friends before you left?” Zoey asked.
“Yeah, Marty and I were always together, so if I was with Scott, so was she.” I hopped off the bed. “Do you guys have an extra blanket? They need another one.”
Marissa dug through her wardrobe and pulled a bagged throw from the top shelf. “Here.”
I carried it to the living room and placed it on the air mattress. “You should be warm enough tonight.”
I returned to my room and lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Jaime sat at his desk, drawing.
A few minutes later, a knock on the door jolted me upright. “Come in,” I called.
Marty squeezed through the door. “Hi. I wanted to say I’m sorry, again, for upsetting you. I didn’t mean to. I honestly thought the three of us would have fun, like old times.” She sat delicately at the edge of my bed, careful not to ruffle the comforter. I watched her eyes scan the room and inferred the judgment hiding behind her stiff posture.
“Marty, he’s my ex. I wanted to see you and show you Ireland, but now I have to worry about that idiot. It was a shock, is all. I wish you had given me notice.”
Her blonde hair shook as her head turned left and right. “Looking at it now, I should have. I promise I won’t do that again. Can you move on for the next few days?”
“Yeah, I guess there are worse things in life. Thank you.” I leaned over and pulled her into a brisk hug.
“We only have a few days, and I would love to see the country, hang out with you, and have fun. Will you do that for me?”
It’s just three days and day one is almost over. It’ll be fine. But why don’t I feel fine? “Of course. What do you want to do tonight?” My previous learned response to acquiesce during conflict reared its ugly head.
Marty fell onto my bed, and she flipped her hair. “Let’s go out to a pub. We can grab food, listen to music, and drink.”
It was a Wednesday night, so they’d get a toned-down version of the nightlife in Ireland. “Sure. I can’t stay out too late, though. I have a lot of cooking to do tomorrow.”
She hugged me, but my arms hung rigid at my sides. Still simmering, I couldn’t seem to forget that she had deceived me. “Great! I’ll tell Scott.” She dashed out of my room, and Jaime threw me a questioning glance.
“What?” I snapped.
