Friend Is a Four Letter Word (23 page)

“She got into USC.”

“What?” Quinn beams. “What didn’t that little assface come and tell me herself?”

“I’m gonna guess it’s because you refer to her as an assface?”

“Whatever, that’s not even close to as bad as the stuff she calls me,” Quinn says, smiling. “Okay, so what? You need help planning?”

I nod. “I do. I don’t know shit about decorations or napkins. I do have a contact at work that may be able to help with the space, but what I really need help with… is the food. You up for it?”

“Obviously, Carter. I’d kick your ass if you hired someone else. I’d love to. You ready to talk menu now?”

“Not quite,” I say. “You may not want to help me after I tell you what I need to.”

“Alright, color me officially freaked out. Are you okay? Is Shayna okay?”

For not being friends for long, Quinn and Shayna have this inexplicable loyalty to each other—whether they want to admit it or not. I probably won’t ever understand the friendship that my sister and Shayna have, but I’m damn grateful that they have it. It isn’t perfect—it isn’t typical, but it works for them, and they are lucky to have found each other. All of us—this weird little family foursome of me, Shay, Ben and Quinn we’re all damn lucky to have found each other.

“So listen, I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but I don’t drink a whole lot,” I say. It sounds stupid. It’s not how I strung together the confession in my head, but that’s what flies out.

Quinn purses her lips and nods. “I have.”

“There’s sort of a reason for that.”

“Carter, are you okay?” Her voice is serious. Sincere.

“I am. I really am. But I’m also…”

“Seriously, Carter, you’re freaking me out.”

There’s no way to sugar coat something that is already dripping in acid so I count to three in my head before spitting the words out. “I’m an alcoholic. I have been for… a long time.”

Quinn leans back in her chair and blows out a long breath. “Okay. So, that’s not exactly what I thought you were going to say.”

“I don’t mean to dump that on you. And you don’t have to worry about me.” I start rambling. “I promise, I’m okay. I just thought maybe it was time that you knew.”

“Do you like… go to meetings? Is that a stupid question?”

“It’s not a stupid question. And I do.”

“There have been so many times that I’ve poured you a drink with dinner Carter and you left it full. Some damn good wine and you’d sit with it there in front of you and not take a sip. Why would you do that? Why would you torture yourself? Masochist much?”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal.”

“Come on, Carter, that’s bullshit. You just didn’t want people to know.”

“That’s part of it,” I say. Quinn raises her eyebrows and glares. She knows all about hiding problems, and what happens when you do it for too long.

“Ben even had his suspicions and I shot him down. You could have just said something.”

I rub my hands together and say, “I wish I did. I wish it had felt that easy.”

“But it’s
me.
If anyone would get it…”

This is also part of the reason I couldn’t tell my sister. She looks damn hurt. I hate seeing her like that, especially knowing I caused it. But I think part of what kept Quinn together after the bad year that she had was knowing that I at least managed to come from our crappy home and be okay. If I killed that perception, I worried about what it would do to her self-esteem. I worried that she’d see it as:
“if Carter screwed up, there’s no hope for me staying on the right track.”

“Hey,” I say. “I know. I also didn’t want to let you down. You sort of have had this idea that I walk on water or some bullshit.”

“That’s not… I just want you to be okay.”

“I am.”

“Does Shayna know?”

I nod. “She does.”

“Whoa, you must really like her.” Quinn’s voice doesn’t sound jealous. “It’s weird, you know. In high school I sort of hated her. And now she’s here and it feels like she’s always been. Like she’s our family. Does that make sense?”

I laugh lightly. “It absolutely does. Listen, I’d better get back. I’m sorry to dump all of this on you. I just wanted you to know. I want to move past some of the secrets. That’s what family does, right?”

I start for the door but Quinn calls after me.

“She can’t fix you, you know. Shayna, I mean. You can love her as much as that damn rabbit in that book, but you have to fix yourself, bro.”

I turn the doorknob. “I’m working on it. And sis, I love you to the—”

“Uh-uh,” Quinn yells shaking her head and hurling a tchotchke at the door. “That’s where I draw the line. Take your cheesy lines and get out.”

We’re both howling with laughter as I close the door and walk back to my apartment feeling a strange mix of relief and humility.

But when I open the door and see the tears on Shayna’s cheeks, all of the relief disappears.

“Doll? You okay.” I rush over to the couch and pull her onto my lap. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry and it’s not something I want to see again. “What happened? What can I do?”

“It’s so beautiful,” she says, holding up a necklace. “My parents—it’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

And for the first time in my life, I actually believe it.

When I was in high school I used to throw a party every time my parents were away. I’d invite the entire school—hell, the entire town over and lock myself away in my bedroom. I let them all have their fun, while I had mine on my own. I drank. I dabbled in drugs. I hooked up with random guys. It was all a game of what could make me feel the least. It’s why I kept moving so much, why I surrounded myself with people I didn’t even like much at all. Standing still meant forcing myself to feel too many things I didn’t want to.

This party isn’t like that though. This party is full of all of the people in the world that I care about.

Carter went all out. The space is owned by one of his clients, and thanks to all of the extra hours and hard work he’s been putting in at the firm, they graciously allowed us to use it tonight for next to nothing. It’s casual enough, long tables covered in white table cloths, but simple place settings: plain white dishes with gingham napkins neatly folded on top and small candles down the length of the table.

For dessert, a small, double-tiered cake iced with ombre pastels.

Quinn did a beautiful job catering, making all sorts of bite sized delicacies that she poured her heart into—for me.
Me.
The girl who tortured her in high school because I was secretly jealous of how she owned her anger. I wanted so badly to be that bold. To just show who I really was inside. Instead, I had a quiet rebellion going on in my own head.

I normally hate attention, but this—surrounded by so many people for something as silly as my birthday is unbelievable. I will gladly soak it all in, especially knowing I get to go home with Carter.

Inside my small black clutch is the gift he gave me.

“I’m not in a place where I can make you a ton of promises, Shay,” he said before we left the house for the party. “But I can promise you that with me, you will always have a place to call home.”

He gave me a key to his apartment.

I pull back the curtain and peer into the dining room.

My parents flew in yesterday and Carter and I took them to lunch. I haven’t yet told them that I’m moving in with Carter. I will after the party. No more secrets.

Even Carter’s parents flew in. They’re still in the dark about what the last year has held for Carter, but I’m impressed that they made the trip out. Quinn sort of invited them on a whim—to be polite, not really expecting them to show. I have a feeling they only did because Carter and Quinn’s dad plays golf with Carter’s boss, but whatever the reason, they get to see their children who are amazing in spite of their douchiness.

Wait.

My mind finally processes what I just saw.

I pull the curtain back again. Maybe I imagined it. I probably imagined it.

There’s no way that he’s standing next to my mom at my party.

No.

Way.

And yet, as I run my hand down the throwback red velvet drape, I see him. Clinking his glass to my parents, probably sharing a little inside toast. Raising his eyebrow and taking in Quinn a little too long to be appropriate. Talking to everyone like he belongs here. He’s my friend, yes, but today? What is he doing here today? Unannounced?

It’s fine. It is. Running out on my old life, brought me to Carter—and to what is supposed to be a perfect day that he and Quinn painstakingly prepared for.

Carter catches my eye from across the room and I watch the momentary blip of confusion on his face, the way his brows pull down in the middle. But he shakes it right off and a smile stretches across that gorgeous, trusting face.

“Shay! Come join the party!” he calls.

I want to run away.

Again.

I take a slow step toward them. One foot in front of the other. I keep my eyes on Carter. This is easy. One slight glance toward Nolan, though, and my heart picks up pace.

What the hell is he doing here? I stumble just as a hand clutches my elbow, steadying me.

“You alright, Shayna? Too much champagne already? Didn’t realize you were such a lightweight.” Ben says.

“I’m fine, I just—”

“Just avoiding the soon to be in laws?” He jokes. “I hear you on that one. The MacPherson’s scare the shit out of me.”

“Something like that,” I say.

Ben must catch site of Nolan because he bristles next to me.

“Didn’t realize you were close to Nolan, either.” Ben takes a sip of his beer, and cuts his eyes at me.

It’s been nice with all of us living so close. One big happy family. And yet, with all that closeness, none of them know about Nolan Bryant. Except I did tell Quinn.

“I’m not. I don’t know what he’s doing here,” I say. “How do you know him?”

“My parents go to his parents’ church,” he says. “He’s kind of a dick, huh?”

Ben takes a long drink from his glass.

“He’s…
conservative
,” I say. I want to ask what kind of run-in Ben has had with him, but that might look like I care too much. I can’t believe Nolan didn’t tell me he’d be coming. It feels off somehow. It feels like sabotage.

“Also, Quinn mentioned that you were seeing a Nolan back home at one point.”

Ben tips his chin down and cocks a small smile. “Didn’t expect him to show up here today, huh?”

“Not exactly.”

“Come on, Shay. You’re tough. Let’s go face the music.”

Ben leads me over to the group.

“Mr. and Mrs. MacPherson, it’s good to see you again,” Ben says. Carter and Quinn’s parents make a few noncommittal noises, no actual attempt at conversation and mostly just keep drinking.

My parents look a little more relaxed than they did when they first got here. They don’t socialize with people outside of the church all that often, so coming out for a party in California didn’t exactly fall within their confines of comfort.

They weren’t even sure at first how to act when I introduced them to Carter. He isn’t at all what they pictured for me, but that’s okay. We’re slowly learning to accept that we have different ideas about most everything—except what makes us a family. Them traveling all this way for a birthday party is a prime example.

“You’re our daughter, it’s your birthday. Of course we want to be there,” Dad told me when I called and invited him, half expecting him to scoff at the idea of a grand party to celebrate someone who hasn’t exactly had a banner year.

“Happy Birthday, Shayna,” Nolan says. He clutches at my hands and pulls me in to kiss me on the cheek. The whole time, Carter’s eyes are burning holes into the side of Nolan’s head. “You remember me, right?”

The question confuses me. I don’t know if he’s doing it for Carter’s benefit or as a joke but I smile politely and say, “Of course I remember you. It’s been a couple of months, not a couple of decades.”