jazz in the background is welcoming, and the other patrons have quiet discussions at their tables. Along with the lighting that’s just dim enough to create a soothing ambiance, I can imagine myself being quite relaxed here.
Unfortunately, I’m not.
It’s still bright enough that I can see Charlie’s face across the table and the slight twitching of her lip. It makes her smile look even less genuine than normal, though I’m probably the only one to notice this detail.
“It’s so nice to get you two out with us,” Charlie says, then takes a sip of her wine. “You never come out anymore.”
She’s loud enough to disrupt the tables to either side of us.
“We’ve been busy,” I say, offering an apologetic smile to both Charlie and Billy.
Billy’s a great guy. He cooks, cleans, and makes sure that his family is well taken care of. He dotes on Charlie so much that it makes me more envious than I’d ever confess. He has his arm over her shoulder, his hand rubbing the base of her neck.
I reach across the booth to Camden and place my hand on his knee. Charlie finds a way to make everything a competition, and no doubt, she’ll use this night in her next gossip chain if Camden and I don’t act affectionately.
She’s worse than the tabloids.
“Well, you’ve been busy, anyway,” Charlie says, shooting me a glance.
“Just helping out some friends,” I say, hoping that she lets this go.
She leans into Billy’s hand, clearly relishing his massage. I scoot closer to Camden and slide my hand up his calf. Camden gives me a questioning glance but doesn’t say anything, he just picks up his bourbon on the rocks and takes a long sip.
“Yeah, helping your friends. More like helping yourself,” she says, with a groan.
Anger rises from my belly to my cheeks. I silently plead for the men to take over the table conversation. They discuss cars, sports, and who knows what else, so seamlessly. They never fight. Meanwhile, I’m ready to launch across the table and tackle Charlie to the ground. If I did that, I wouldn’t stop there, with my pent-up rage.
Tonight is about making amends. Not clearing the air—completely—but making it as breezy and bright as we can.
“Come on, Charlie, that’s not true,” I counter, letting my lips curl into a sweet smile. “I helped you a few weeks ago. Someone is always asking for help.”
“One in particular,” she says with disgust. Or is it jealousy?
She rolls her eyes and swats Billy’s hand from her neck. I slide an inch closer to Camden. This is my time to take the lead in our competitive game.
“I spoke to her again. I wanted to make sure that there was no mistake. She reassured me that there wasn’t,” I say cautiously. Charlie’s body stiffens. She reaches for her wine glass and makes a fist around the stem.
“Your tennis bracelet,” I glance at her wrist still wrapped in it, “isn’t made of diamonds. She says that she’s sorry, but she’d be happy to look at something else for you free of charge.”
Elle’s going to be livid when she finds out that I’ve offered this. But I hate confrontation, especially with Charlie. Somehow, the thought of dealing with Elle later seems easier.
Charlie’s lips pull together as she casts a quick glance at Camden, then back to her wine. I follow her gaze. Her knuckles are white.
“I’m really sorry,” I say, feeling my anxiety spinning out. “I know Billy gave it to you as a gift. And—”
An odd cackle comes from the base of Charlie’s throat. Her face is flushed.
“Olivia,” she snaps, then shakes her shoulders out. “This thing … is something I picked up at a knockoff jewelry store. Not a gift. Nothing special.”
My face scrunches with confusion. She just gave me this big sob story thirty minutes ago. She said it was made from high-grade diamonds. It was a special gift from Billy, on a random Tuesday, because he loves her so much, and because he thinks she’s an excellent mother who deserves more recognition. She insisted, again, that Elle was a liar and a cheat.
Elle is both those things, but Charlie doesn’t know that. And it doesn’t apply here. Not when it comes to jewelry. It’s probably the only thing that Elle can be honest about—when she’s not trying to steal from you. Even if I have little reason to believe Elle, I know for a fact that she’d rather steal diamonds from Charlie than lie and tell her a real thing is fake.
“But you just told me—”
“I was testing her,” Charlie interrupts.
She takes a sip of her wine and chokes a bit. I’ve never seen Charlie uncomfortable like this. It sends a chill through my core and covers me in goosebumps. Something isn’t right.
“Oh yeah,” Billy says, taking her hand in his and tracing his finger along the bracelet. “She brought this home from the mall six months ago. She has been wearing it nonstop, but it’s not from me. Don’t worry, Olivia.”
His eyes are reassuring, meeting mine with a steady glance, but they do nothing to settle the nerves lighting up my body.
I should defend myself and tell her that she’s a bad friend for pulling a prank. I should call her out, corner her with the swarm of lies she’s been bombarding me with, but I can’t. This lie, the one she’s telling to get her name cleared and out of this conversation, isn’t one that I want to unpack.
Camden shifts in the booth as Billy picks up his menu, casually perusing the options. Charlie shoots daggers at Camden with her eyes.
I hold my own menu, pretending that I’m not seeing the silent exchange happening between Charlie and my husband. When Camden drapes his arm over my shoulder and pulls me to him, tilting his head down to whisper “I love you” in my ear, I know Charlie received the tennis bracelet as a gift. She absolutely thought it was real.
And it wasn’t from Billy.