“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Rae smiles and gives me a hug.
“Anyway, let’s talk engagement party. It’s going to be here, the Friday of Fourth of July weekend. Rae, you’ve gotta come. Also, Mon, I told Pace to come.”
“Pace Turner? How is that gorgeous asshole?” Monica laughs.
“He’s good. Dropped out of medical school and is making, quote, a ‘shitload’ of money, working for the company that owns The W. He lives there too; one floor above Adrian, of course.”
“Of course,” Monica snorts.
With all of my fires currently contained, I’m able to enjoy the rest of the night with my girlfriends, thankful Rae’s still on that list.
*
The next two weeks fly by with ease. Well, relative ease. I’ve been busy splitting my time between organizing Monica and Josh’s engagement party and spending time with Adrian. Our arrangement has been seamless thus far. He spends Sunday and Monday nights with me, we enjoy a decadent goodbye on Tuesday morning, and we see each other again Friday evenings.
My time at DROP has been uncomfortable at best. While Rae, Monica, and I have worked well together, few words pass between Bo and me. And, when they do, it’s typically in the form of email. I’ll update him on grants I’m pursuing, and he’ll send me info on ones he’d like me to investigate. That’s. It. Except for the part that nearly every other day Ainsley Worthington and her clacky heels grace the halls of DROP when she brings Bo lunch. It’s not lost on me that he rarely goes out to lunch with her; but that detail only makes me grin as far as naive Ainsley’s concerned.
I, however, play a different game. It’s no game at all, really—Adrian just never comes around here. There’s no need for him to. If he did, it would be a clear sign that I’m trying to rub Bo’s face in something that I’m not. I’m happy with Adrian. Just a few years older than we were when we first dated, things are much smoother. Each of us are more confident in who we are as people; physically and emotionally.
Today is the dedication for DROP’s community center. I’m thrilled with how it’s turned out. Rae took me on a final tour yesterday, and the place is beautiful. As we stand inside the office—me, Monica, Rae, Bo, Carrie, David, and other DROP employees—it dawns on me that this is the last day for a long time that I’ll spend in Concord. I’ve been so busy, I haven’t paid attention. I let out an audible sigh, and everyone except Bo turns briefly in my direction. He knows. Monica discreetly squeezes my fingertips. She knows, too.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Bo speaks into the microphone, while the rest of us stand to either side of him. “The tireless hours put in by the people standing here with me have brought this center to life. A special thank you goes out to Carrie, November, and Monica from The Hope Foundation, who have uprooted their lives the last several weeks in order to get the center off the ground.” His voice is proud but stern. It’s all pomp, with loads of circumstance lingering in the background.
I notice his tight grip on the podium and cast my gaze to the crowd, where, naturally, I immediately spot Ainsley. Dripping in pearls and pretense, she beams at Bo through his speech.
“Choosing today for the dedication didn’t come out of nowhere,” Bo continues. “Today is the four-year anniversary of my parents’ death. My sister, Rae, and I wanted to give the date a new and promising meaning. You’ve all helped make that happen.”
Dizziness knocks me senseless as bile rises in my throat. I didn’t know the date. We never talked about it, and Rae never talks about it. I turn my head to the right and see Rae lean her head on David’s shoulder, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Instantly, my vision clouds behind tears. I swallow hard and force a smile as the room erupts in applause.
Bo and Rae cut the ceremonial ribbon, and the crowd breaks into clutches of supporters wishing the Cavanaugh siblings well. I start toward Bo, intent on saying something congratulatory, but Ainsley beats me to him. This is the first time I’ve seen them in public together; and, judging by the way her arms fit perfectly around his neck—and his lips seem to fit perfectly on hers—they are together. Like, together I don’t like that it bothers me, and I curse myself for my own relationship double standard.
I clear my throat. “That was a great speech, Bo. I’m thrilled for you about this center. Your parents would be proud.” My cheeks burn, as he seems to stare right through me.
“Isn’t it great? I’m proud of him, too.” Ainsley squeezes her twiggy arm around his waist and kisses his cheek. Bo pulls his head away from her lips almost as soon as they make contact.