“Thank you, Janessa. You really did help me more than you can ever know.”
“I think I know,” she says softly.
We walk in silence for the remainder of the way. The din of tourists grows louder as we turn down a residential side street and cut through an alley to the boardwalk. We weave through the throng of tourists heading toward Brooke’s Bytes. The smell of French fries grows thicker as we pass Fried Critters, a walk-up fast-food restaurant.
“Mm, that makes me hungry,” I say to break the silence.
“Really? I figured you for an ice cream girl.” Janessa’s tone is lighter, and I notice she’s standing taller and her face isn’t as pinched as it was when we left counseling.
“Oh, I’m definitely an ice cream girl, a pizza girl, a French fry girl.” I laugh. “I’m not a picky eater at all. My mom used to tell me that I’d weigh six hundred pounds when I grew up with the way I ate.”
Janessa’s eyes shift to me, watching, assessing.
“It doesn’t feel weird to talk about my mom,” I say so quietly I wonder if she can hear it. “It feels good to remember.”
She touches my shoulder. “Good, Delilah. That’s good.”
We pass the arcade, greeted with the pings and dings of the games, and I spot Ashley leaning on the railing in front of Brooke’s Bytes. My heartbeat speeds up, and I feel myself smiling. She must sense my eyes on her, because she turns and searches for a second before finding me. Her lips curve up, and she takes a step in our direction. Her eyes shift to Janessa, and her smile falters, but she forces it to return. Well, mostly, anyway.
She’s trying.
~Ashley~
I CONSIDER MYSELF a pretty good judge of character, despite the way I misjudged Sandy. There are certain things we have to forgive ourselves for. Otherwise we’d never learn and grow or move forward on any level. I forgive myself for Sandy because, let’s face it, if a person wants to deceive someone badly enough, they will make it happen. Sandy was well versed in the act of deceiving, and I was well practiced in the ability to trust. I’d never been with anyone I didn’t trust. Sandy broke that in me, and until Delilah, I feared my ability to trust was broken for good. But I never felt like I couldn’t trust Delilah. Even after I found out about her night with Janessa, I still trusted her. She’s never tried to hide anything from me. Well, except I can tell she’s keeping some things about her parents close to her chest, but that’s a whole different ball game. Those aren’t lies. Those are pieces of herself that she’s just not ready to share yet.
“Hi.” Delilah comes close but doesn’t reach for my hand, which is hurtful, especially since she’s with Janessa, but I get it, so I don’t say anything.
“Hi. Sorry if we made you wait,” she says. “Ash, you remember Janessa.”
“Yeah, hi.” God, she’s pretty. I glance at Delilah, whose eyes are on me.
On me.
Thank you.
I’m an idiot for worrying.
Janessa leans in and hugs me, and I manage to make it completely awkward, with one hand dangling by my side and the other kind of patting her on the back.
“Hi, Ashley. I’m so glad you’re here. Delilah talks about you nonstop.”
I have no idea if she’s telling me the truth or trying to make me feel better because she can tell that I’m battling feeling like a third wheel around them, but her comment makes me feel better.
We go into Brooke’s Bytes, and Brooke whips by us carrying a tray of food.
“Hey, girls! Take a seat. I’ll be right there.” Brooke’s dark hair is tied back in a low ponytail. She’s wearing a bright blue apron with BROOKE’S BYTES across the chest.
We sit at a table by the wall and Delilah still doesn’t take my hand, but her knee presses against mine. It might seem silly, but that’s enough for now. It’s something. And I know for her, it’s a lot.
After we’re settled in, Brooke comes to take our orders.
“Girls’ night out after counseling. I like it.” Brooke smiles, nods. She pats Delilah’s shoulder. “What can I get you?”
“Coke for me, thanks,” Janessa says.
“I’ll have a Sprite.”
Delilah looks at me, then up at Brooke. “I’ll have a Sprite too, thanks, Brooke.”
“You’ve got it. Hey, that was a great party for Brandon the other night, wasn’t it?” Brooke’s eyes run between me and Delilah, and I wonder if she heard us arguing.
“Yeah, it was,” Delilah answers. “Thanks for putting it together.”
Brooke waves her off. “Pfft. What good is a party-planning business if I can’t plan a party for friends? I’ll grab your drinks and be right back.”