“Savannah…” Cassie says, her voice tinged with warning. I have about three seconds to build a defense before she goes full on best friend mode and ferrets out what’s wrong with me.
“So is this for your house or Ryder’s condo?” I walk over to the closest booth with furniture. There is literally nothing in the booth I would consider recommending to Cassie, but it’s a new subject. Silently, I send a prayer that Cassie won’t let me get away. I’m so tired of fighting and if I’m going to go up in flames, I want to trust Cassie to control the burn.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You are allowed this one diversion,” she warns. “And yes, it’s for Ryder’s condo.”
If there was one person I could trust with this whole debacle it would be Cassie. She would understand more than anyone else in the world. But I just can’t make myself tell her. It would put a damper on our whole day.
“Hmmm, so something more feminine? Is his place super modern?”
“Well, he’s certainly not French country.” I crack a laugh. It can’t be helped. “Yeah, classic lines I think, but with a fresh take. Something you wouldn’t think would work—”
“But does?” I finish for her. We relax back into casual conversation. This ease between us lasts most of the morning. We cruise through the flea market, laughing over trinkets and seriously considering a few pieces. Cassie falls for a coffee table made of crates that had been mounted on industrial casters. It was something she was dead set on getting, but not willing to spend the nine hundred dollars the seller wanted.
“Are you sure you couldn’t do four fifty?” Cassie asks.
“That’s almost half off.”
In fact, I add silently, it is half off. Easy prey.
“Cassie, come on, it’s not worth it—not at that price at least,” I say, linking arms with her. “Plus, there’s a table at the end of this row you have to see.” Rule number one when haggling: it’s best to let the opposition know that you have no problem walking away. “It’s a gem. Trust me, Ryder will absolutely love it.”
Rule number two, remind the seller there are literally a million other options better than the one they have.
I pull Cassie away. When she doesn’t show any sign of leaving, I pull harder. Come on, work with me here.
“What are you doing? I really want that table,” she whispers. I really do love my best friend, but sometimes I wonder why she doesn’t follow my lead more. It was her idea to bring me along for my haggling skills.
“When he stops us, look real sad, but let me do the talking. Got it?”
A wicked smile spreads across her face and I know I’ve been forgiven for separating her from her treasure. “This is why I brought you.” She throws her arms around me, wrapping me in a hug I’m not prepared for. The sudden contact shatters any shield I have against her. If she asked me about Cash right now, I’d tell her everything, starting with Tanner and ending with last night’s disaster.
“All right, all right, I can drop it down to five hundred. Just for you, though,” the seller says before we can take another step. We stop and I turn around. Time for the real work to begin.
“I dunno, this other table is perfect. Great lines, and I think Ryder would really go for it.” Cassie puts on one heck of a show, going all pouty face. The seller wavers. Time to go in for the kill. “And it’s getting late in the day.”
“I like this one,” Cassie adds again, running a hand lovingly over the table. Don’t over play it, girl.
I scrutinize the table again. “You could make this for fifty bucks. Three hundred.” Inwardly I cringe. That might have been too low ball. The trick is to go lower than you’re willing to pay but not so low as to insult them.
“Five.”
“The other one is four and willing to negotiate. Three seventy five.”
“Four.”
“Done,” I say with a self-satisfied smile. I may not be able to have a handle on my love life, but this, I can do this until the cows come home. “Cassie, pay the man.”
As Cassie signs the paper and makes arrangements to have the table delivered to Ryder’s condo, I wander over to the other booths. Not really looking for anything, just avoiding the inevitable. We’ve accomplished most of what we came here to do. When Cassie comes back to me, I know that my reprieve is over.
The moment of truth has come. I pick up a set of tea cups and hold them up for her approval. She stares at them as if to say, seriously? Yes, it was a stupid shield, but can you blame me?
“Which one first old boy or current one?” Cassie asks. Always direct, that best friend of mine. Having had the morning to mull over my feelings, it’s easier to let them out now.
“Current,” I say setting aside the pointless trinkets. Cassie takes my arm and we walk up the aisle, no longer pretending to look at the wares laid out.
“Someday when you want to talk about it, you can talk to me about the old boy. You know that, right?”