Vince put his pencil down. “What’d you get?”
“Is the sample standard deviation two thousand and seventy-one point eight?” Her voice reached the high pitch it always did when she was unsure of herself.
Vince held his hand out, palm up.
“Wait—that was right?” Laura asked excitedly, high-fiving him.
“Well, that’s what I got, too, so either it’s right or we’re both the same amount of stupid.” He shot her a sly grin.
Laura grinned back and rewarded herself with a Hot Pocket.
“Should we try another one?” Vince asked, flipping the page. He pushed up his gray long-sleeve shirt, revealing his muscular forearms. Laura’s eyes lingered on them a beat too long and she felt her face growing red. She averted her gaze. “Sure.”
They raced each other, like they did in class. He scribbled; she scribbled. He coughed; she huffed. Finally they both yelled out “Done!” within mere seconds of each other.
“What you got, Landry?” Vince asked.
“Twelve,” Laura said, more confidently this time.
Vince shook his head and dropped his pencil onto his notebook with a clatter. “You’re a genius. What are you even doing here . . . just stealing my Hot Pockets?”
Laura let out a laugh. “Thank you. I feel like I’m finally getting it now. It’s a shame I didn’t do this well on the quiz.”
“Maybe you were just having an off day. It happens.” He leaned back, running his hand through his dark hair. “Like, just the other day, I accidentally said coucher instead of cochon to a question in French class. So instead of talking about a pig, I basically asked Ms. Bellerose if I could sleep with her.”
She burst out laughing again. “Oh my god!”
Vince blushed. “Anywayyyy,” he drawled. “Back to you. So, you’re obviously smart. What college is going to be lucky enough to have you on campus next fall?”
This again? “No college,” she said firmly.
Vince’s eyebrows furrowed and he leaned closer. “Why, though? With your grades, you could probably get a scholarship.”
“Why are you trying to plan my life?” Laura snapped. The truth was, she’d never given college much consideration. No one in her immediate or extended family had a degree, and they all seemed to be doing just fine. The only reason her husband was going was for football, and the idea of her applying felt disruptive, like even thinking about an alternate future could adversely affect her and Brian’s life.
Vince held up his hands and gave her a placating look. “Okay, I’m definitely not trying to plan your life, and I’m sorry if you feel like I am.” He paused. “I just think you have so much—and forgive me if this sounds guidance-counselory—potential.”
“I’m pretty sure Mrs. Walker has a poster in her office that says that exact thing.” Laura smiled in spite of herself.
Vince chuckled. “Sorry, forget it.”
“So, what’s your big plan, then?” she asked. “What are you gonna do when you graduate?”
“Well . . .” Vince blushed, looking proud and embarrassed at the same time. “I just signed with Duke. They gave me a full scholarship.”
“Wow, seriously? How come you never said anything?” Laura was floored. When Brian signed with LSU, he made sure everyone in the whole town knew. It was literally headline news in the Toulouse Town Talk. Ricky even hosted a party at the Sea Shack to celebrate.
“I guess I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” Vince shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely excited.”
“So, are you hoping to go pro?” she asked.
He leaned in toward her slightly, as if he had a secret. “Just between us, I’m only doing the football thing so I can pay for school.”
Laura didn’t know what to say to that. No one in Toulouse put education over football . . . not even the teachers. “Wow,” she repeated. “Well, good for you.”
As they dove back into their schoolwork, Laura kept sneaking looks at Vince from under her lashes. She’d never met anyone like him before, someone who actually valued getting an education. It made his words weightier somehow. He thought she had potential. That she was bright.
Brian constantly told her how beautiful and pretty she was. But it occurred to Laura that in all their years together, he’d never once praised her for being smart.
21
gabrielle
“WHERE ARE YOU taking me?” Gabby asked Tony as they turned down a gravel road in the small town of Vacherie. When she’d met him at his apartment earlier that day, he said he had a surprise for her, but they’d been driving for more than an hour and—while she relished getting to spend extra alone time with Tony—Gabby was starting to get antsy.
“Okay, I guess we’re close enough,” Tony said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Remember at Thanksgiving when you described your dream wedding? The antebellum mansion and old oak trees?”
In the two and a half months since Thanksgiving, she had let herself relax into her role as a bride. Her new method of handling her situation was willful denial—it was all tomorrow’s problem. Willow had helped her set up her Pinterest board, which was now covered in floral arrangements and pictures of peach-colored bridesmaid dresses. Gabby had even gone old school and bought up all the bridal magazines Walmart had to offer. There was still a little voice inside her head screaming that she was a fraud, but it grew quieter with each day that passed without anyone finding out her secret.
“Yeah.” She looked out the window as the car turned onto a narrow oak-tree-lined street.
“Well, I found it!” A large white house appeared in the distance. He glanced up at her and smiled, his dark eyes crinkling around the edges. “I thought we could check it out and see what you think.”
Gabby gasped as they made their way closer. A path lined with towering, ancient live oak trees led to a large, majestic antebellum home straight out of Gone With the Wind. Imposing two-story Greek revival columns framed the mansion’s wraparound porch and balcony. Moss grew on the oaks, the lawns were perfectly manicured, and green shutters bordered each window. She looked back at Tony, speechless.
“What do you think?” he asked, pulling into the small parking lot on the side.
“It’s straight out of my dreams,” Gabby replied. In fact, she had a photo of a home just like this in her wedding book. But that—along with everything in the wedding book—had always seemed like a far-off fantasy, a wedding for a different, luckier girl. Her heart swelled.
Tony grinned. “Good.”
As they got out of the car, a petite young woman in a beige tunic dress and cowboy boots came briskly down the path, carrying a clipboard and iPad. “Tony and Gabrielle?”
“That’s us,” Tony said, shaking her hand.