One Good Friend Deserves Another (21 page)

“Marta.”

“Yes. Marta.” Audrey gave her a wistful little smile. “You three, you’re really her best friends.
You’re
the people she talks about. So I’d hoped you had some inkling about what is going on with her, and maybe you could clue me in.”

Kelly looked toward the swiftly shrinking shoreline, both flattered at Audrey’s observation and chagrinned at it, because beyond the stress of the coming wedding, Kelly didn’t really have a clue what was bothering Wendy. It was true that there had been a lot going on among their little group these past six weeks. Dhara announcing her arranged marriage had been a shock, as had Marta’s breakup with Carlos. Cole’s hospital visit and rehab stint had been another surprise, as was her own outing of this relationship with Trey.

In any case, that was all family business, in a manner of speaking. Kelly wasn’t sure she could share any of this with Audrey. Then she looked past Audrey’s designer glasses, plumping lip gloss, and perfectly lined eyes to the very serious woman, clearly deeply concerned about their mutual friend.

“Frankly, Audrey, it feels weird talking about Wendy to you.”

“I know what you mean.” Audrey’s nose crinkled mischievously. “Talking about her makes you feel vaguely guilty, like she could arrive any moment, and we’d be caught.”

“Why do you think it’s like that?”

“Because Wendy is the most private person I know. Generous to a fault. Always there when I need her. But sometimes, I think Wendy’s afraid to really open herself up to anyone.”

A good half hour later, Audrey apologized as the children tumbled down from the wheelhouse and dragged their mother out of the sun for a long-promised game of Chinese checkers. Kelly had already regaled Audrey with one particular night she, Wendy, Dhara, and Marta had shared senior year in Aruba, and Audrey had started in on a story about Wendy when she was captain of the field hockey team. As Audrey’s children dragged her by the hand into the galley, Audrey, with a roll of her eyes, promised to give further details once little ears weren’t around.

Kelly took the opportunity to strike out for the head, thinking that if Trey’s other friends were half as sweet as Audrey, then the unveiling of her and Trey’s relationship wouldn’t be half as traumatic as she’d feared.

She slipped into the main area of the boat, gliding past the galley where the young helper was laying out tiny sandwiches and trays of summer salad. She sidled into the bathroom, expecting a confined space, only to find a granite-topped vanity, a huge mirror, and a glass-enclosed shower big enough to include a seat. It was bigger than the bathroom in her apartment.

And had about the same amount of privacy, she thought, as she did her business amid the sound of Trey’s laugh and then the clipped vowels of Parker’s familiar voice. Some quirk of architecture made their voices echo from the wheelhouse to this room.

As she washed her hands, she paused, catching the sound of her name.

“Oh, Kelly’s cute, Trey, no doubt about it,” James said. “Especially for that type.”

“You mean redheads?” That was Parker’s voice, and it was accompanied by a hissing noise, as if he were drawing air through his teeth. “That’s a new one for you, Trey. I always thought Kelly was hot. My compliments.”

Kelly smiled a little, drying her hands on a plush towel, warming to Parker.

“Yeah, nice curves,” James added, “but you better watch yourself, bro.”

She stilled.

“Watch myself?” Trey said. “Watch myself how?”

“I’m just saying. You have to be careful. With a girl like that. Brought up like that.”

Trey made a dismissive noise. “You’re just pissed she knew what a davit was.”

“Did you see her face when she looked at these controls? She lit up. The girl has never seen such a boat, and she grew up on the water. Total working-class, that Kelly of yours.”

Damn right.
Kelly didn’t think she liked James all that much. He’d rubbed her the wrong way, showing irritation when he couldn’t tell her the fuel capacity of the boat, brushing off her other questions with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m just saying,” James continued, “that you have to think about this. She’s not like that girl you dated last year—what was her name?”

“Muffy Stonebridge,” Parker said, his voice full of wonder. “Ferocious butt, hair down to her knees.”

The warmth she felt for Parker cooled a bit.

“Well, Muffy’s family’s got money in minerals,” James said. “She’s not looking for more. But this girl of yours? She’s looking at you and all she’s seeing is dollar signs, bro.”

“No, no, you’ve got her all wrong.”

“Listen,” James persisted, “I know you like variety. I still remember that Lebanese girl you bagged at that bar in the Hamptons last summer.”

Oh, Kelly
really
didn’t like James. She wondered what the good-hearted Audrey saw in him, and what could possibly have brought them together.

“Oh God, yes,” Parker exclaimed. “You get all the luck.”

“Yeah,” James added, “Trey likes to slum. He likes ’em dirty.”

Anger, like a shower of sparks, prickled down upon her.

“Hey, easy, James,” Parker warned. “Remember, Kelly is Wendy’s friend. One of her bridesmaids.”

“What? Jesus, Trey, you’ve got to be kidding me.” James’s chair squealed as it swiveled. “Never fuck one of your sister’s friends.”

Trey’s protest—
Shut up, James
—sounded strangely muffled.

“What the hell are you thinking?” James continued. “There’s nothing wrong with banging a redhead. But why are you bringing that kind of girl
here
?”

Then Kelly pressed against the granite countertop, waiting for Trey’s response in the silence, and in that silence, she imagined him pushing out of his seat in the wheelhouse, his hands tightening into fists, debating whether it was bad form to punch the host. She waited, not expecting Trey to give a long speech on how much fun they had together, or how he felt like himself when he was around her, or how he stole time, even from work, to be in her company. She waited for Trey to give James a good knock in the teeth for being such an
asshole.

She waited, her knuckles going white on the countertop.

She waited, her heart pounding in her ears.

She waited.

“Fuck, guys,” Trey muttered. “Just show me how much power this boat has, okay?”

Kelly stood alone at the bow as the wind whipped her hair off her face. The yacht raced across the sound, shattering a path through the wakes of lesser boats. She gripped the railing, her knees loose to ride the gentle heave and ho. She welcomed the occasional spray, a physical manifestation of a cold slap of reality.

Trey was still in the wheelhouse above her. She knew he could see her through the Plexiglas. That’s why she’d planted herself here. Eventually, she reasoned, he would slither away from his so-called friends and join her.

“Hey.” He arrived later than she expected, slipping one hand along the railing. “Aren’t you cold out here?”

“No. I like the speed.” She fixed her gaze on the far horizon rather than the sight of his polo shirt battered against his six-pack. “It makes me think of time travel.”

Trey’s laugh hitched in surprise.

“It’s conceivable, you know.” She tugged a strand of hair off her face. “Based on velocity, if you look at time dilation in special relativity a one-way trip to the future is possible.”

He leaned a hip against the rail in an effort to catch her gaze. “Someday, I hope I actually understand you, Kell.”

“The real problem is traveling to the past. Theoretically possible, but there are all kinds of tricky paradoxes.”

“Bummer.”

“And that’s what I’d really want to do—return to the past.” She gripped the rail as the boat took a sudden dip. “To one particular day in college when I was sitting by myself on a pub stool, waiting for my friends.”

She saw the smile lines at the edges of his eyes deepen as he remembered. Then those wrinkles smoothed, as he grew uncertain of her mood.

“You know what I’d tell that girl, Trey? I’d tell her to keep waiting for her friends.” She began to tremble, and not from the cold. “I’d tell that girl that the hot guy approaching her from across the room was a weak-assed, sniveling, grade-A fuckup.”

She seized the fluttering ends of her gossamer cover-up and yanked them across her body. Fury made her shake. Fury that she hadn’t ended this relationship the way she’d intended to—sweetly, softly, at the hotel when the moment was ripe. Fury at what a fool she’d been in the first place, for not listening to her friends. And most of all, fury at him, for his failure, over fifteen years, to grow a spine.

He froze, blanching to the color of his polo shirt. His gaze skittered to the wheelhouse.

“Yeah, this is me talking, Trey. Working-class Kelly Palazzo, the gold digger who’s banging you for your money.”

He shifted his weight and turned his attention to a small puddle of seawater beading on the deck. “You were in the head.”

“The acoustics are damn good. Your friend James is a real charmer.”

“I’m sorry you overheard him.”

“I’m not. I’m glad I heard
all
of it. If I hadn’t, I would never have believed that you’d let a friend cut off your balls like that.”

“Hey, hey—”

“What? Did you forget I’m a fisherman’s daughter?” She jerked her chin in the direction of the wheelhouse. “Go back to James. He’ll remind you.”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. He folded his arms. His throat worked as if he were swallowing his own temper. “I know he’s an asshole. But he was looking out for me.”

“You’re freakin’ kidding me.”

“You don’t think that doesn’t happen?” He leaned in to her. “You think there haven’t been situations where I’m ass-over-tit for some girl who’s thinking of nothing but my money?”

Kelly remembered Wendy and Josef in college. In her head, she acknowledged that the situation could cut both ways. It didn’t make her heart feel any better. “So when James called you out on those other relationships, did you argue with him?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then clearly you’re not ass-over-tit for me. You didn’t say a
word
in my defense.”

“Fuck, I did!”

“I heard everything—”

“James is a bulldog.” He cast an angry glare toward the wheelhouse. “He’s a damn brick wall. He’ll argue a point until he’s three blood-pressure points from blowing an artery. Even if he’s wrong—
especially
if he’s wrong.”

“Oh, so he’s wrong?”

“Of
course
he’s wrong.” He jabbed a finger in his chest. “I know that.
You
know that—”

“How the hell am I supposed to know that? You just let your best friend piss all over me.”

“You’re blowing this all out of proportion.”

“Like
hell
I am.” In the wheelhouse, Kelly noticed three curious faces pressed close to the window, one of them Audrey, covering her mouth with her hand. Their voices were carrying, and Kelly worried, fleetingly, about the kids, so she lowered her voice a notch. “Do you have any idea what kind of shit storm I battled when I told my friends the news about us? Do you have any idea how hard it was to defend myself? Do you know how much I defended you?”

“That’s different—”

“It’s the same. Freakin’. Thing.”

“You don’t have a clue what it’s like—”

“I understand that you’re ashamed of me.”

“Fuck, Kelly—”

“I understand more than that too.” Her heart pounded in her ears. “I understand that despite all my hopes, you are the same heartless screwup that you were in college. Except this time you’re stuck under a different alpha male’s hairy thumb.”

His pupils contracted to pinpricks. The yacht had slowed from its headlong race but it still bobbed in the wake of other boats. She braced her legs, riding the rock, while he came right up to her, close enough so she could smell the sunscreen she’d slathered on his skin that morning.

He spoke straight into her face. “You want the truth, Kelly?”

“That would be refreshing.”

“I don’t give a damn what James thinks. I don’t give a damn what James says. We’re here together. You and me. That means something. I don’t know what else you want from me.”