I drop my cup and lunge for her, my fingers grasping for her neck, her hair, intent on inflicting pain.
Strong arms rope around me and pull me back before I can find purchase. DJ’s friend Matt, a nice enough guy who smells faintly of weed and cigarettes, is hauling me away, kicking and screaming.
The last seven years have been kind to Krystal. She looks more grown up now, the heavy black liner and red lipstick replaced by subtle taupe shadows and pink gloss, her sun-bleached hair now a shiny golden blonde.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She makes it sound as if we’re old friends, catching up.
What am I going to do, or say, standing in the middle of an ice cream shop with my daughter next to me?
I smile politely. “It sure has.”
Another young man wearing a pointy white cone hat appears behind the counter for her. “Yes, hi, I’m here to pick up an order? Maxwell,” she tells him. While the guy disappears into the back, Krystal turns her attention back to me. “I’m in town for my mother’s birthday.”
I glance back at Brenna, who has made it to the far left of the chiller now, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth in that unconscious way she does as she reads the labels. At least the guy waits on her with a hint of amusement now. “So . . . what have you been up to?” Not that I care.
“I’m living in Philadelphia. I just got my first teaching job. High school English. Go figure, right?”
“Right.” Glad to know she’s molding young minds.
“Oh! And can you believe it?” She lifts her manicured hand to show off the sparkly diamond on her ring finger.
“Congratulations.”
“Yes!” She holds her hand in front of her to admire her own ring. “He’s a lawyer, on track to be partner.”
“Mommy, I’ve decided. Dutch chocolate, please,” Brenna tells the guy.
“Is this your daughter?” Krystal asks, peering down at her. But Brenna’s too busy watching the guy to make sure the scoops are full so she doesn’t turn.
“Sorry, she takes her ice cream seriously.”
“Well, she has her priorities straight, then.” Krystal chuckles. “So, I watched that interview. I said to Justin, ‘I went to school with her!’ ”
And what else did you tell him? All I can do is smile, but I know it doesn’t reach my eyes.
It doesn’t dissuade her from talking, though. “And ho-ly. Brett Madden.” She whistles softly. “He’s gorgeous.”
I guess I can’t fault the world for noticing his looks before anything else. I’m no better. But he’s so much more than just a handsome face. “He’s a really nice guy,” I acknowledge, smothering my sadness.
I never did respond to his message. He’s called twice since, once to see if I really didn’t need Hawk and Vince anymore. A second time “just to touch base.” The first call I genuinely missed, the second I left unanswered. Both times, I fell asleep listening to the voice mails.
I haven’t been able to bring myself to call him back yet. So much for being brave.
I reach into my purse to get my wallet.
“Oh no, please. Put the little girl’s ice cream cone on my bill.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes! Please. It’s done. It’s done, right?” She looks expectantly at the guy.
I don’t want to argue and cause a scene, so I mumble a thanks and grab a handful of napkins instead. “Well, it was great seeing—”
“I was really hoping you two would . . . you know . . .” She sighs dreamily. “What a fairy tale ending to an incredible story.”
I feel heat crawl into my cheeks as other customers perk up. “They must have been looking to boost ratings or something, spinning it that way.”
“Sure didn’t look like it.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Brenna tugs on my sleeve to get my attention. “Can we go now? I have to pee.”
For once, I’m thankful for Brenna’s impatience and tiny bladder. “Yeah, it would have been.” I put my arm around her, pulling her close to me. “It was good seeing you, Krystal. Good luck with the wedding.”
“Yeah, okay.” She opens her mouth as if to say something but hesitates. I use that chance to shuttle Brenna out the door, toward Keith.
But a few moments later, she comes running out. “Hey, wait!” She looks tentatively from me to Keith, to Brenna, who’s already sporting streaks of chocolate on her nose and chin, and then back to me, her face full of uncertainty.
“Come on, Brenna.” Keith leads her to his truck and out of earshot.
Krystal’s lips press tight. “I just . . .” She takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for how horrible I was to you in high school. I’m mortified by it, actually.”
“That’s . . .” I stop myself before I brush it off with “that’s okay.” Before I brush it off as no big deal because I just want to avoid all of this and move on. Instead, I find myself asking the question I’ve thought of asking so many times. “What did I ever do to you?”
She sighs and looks down. “I heard you fooled around with Darin the weekend after he broke up with me.”
“Darin?” I frown.
“Darin Metcalfe. He was the quarterback. We dated for two years.”
“Oh.” Right. I did fool around with him. It was at that crazy house party that got shut down by the cops. I was drunk and he was hot, so when he started flirting with me . . .
She hesitates, as if considering her next words. “And Mr. Philips was a flirt. I mean, he smiled a lot at me. I guess I thought he and I might . . . well, I guess I was jealous. Turns out I dodged a real bullet there.” She offers me a sympathetic smile. “Not that that’s any excuse for how I treated you. Anyway, I’ve thought about you sometimes, hoping I’d get a chance to apologize one day, and that you might forgive me. That’s . . .” She clasps her hands together in front of her, her gaze flickering away before meeting mine again. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
I’m speechless. If someone had said I’d run into Krystal Maxwell and get a stumbling, nervous apology from her, I would have laughed in their face.
Is this because of the interview? Now that I know Brett Madden, does she just want to be on the right side of my fence?
Or is it just because she actually does feel bad and truly is sorry?
Can I simply forgive her?
She turns to head back into the store.
“Hey.”
She peers back at me with bright blue eyes, nothing but sincerity in them.
“Thank you for saying that. It means a lot to me.”
Her face breaks out in a wide, genuine-looking smile, and she heaves a sigh, like she was holding her breath. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe.”
She disappears into the store, the group of teenagers sitting at the table watching us intently. I climb into Keith’s truck.
“You look like you’ve been slapped.” He nods toward the spot where Krystal and I stood moments ago, dropping his voice. “What was that about?”
“Some closure, I think.”
For both of us.
“Hey, I’ve been here before!” Brenna squeals with excitement as we turn into the long winding driveway of Lander’s Mill.