Stranded(3)

Her aunt gasped. “That asshole! What did he say when you caught him?”

India’s face burned with humiliation as she remembered what she’d seen. “Nothing. He didn’t see me standing in the doorway. I left the house before he could. I probably should have told him before the dinner, but…”

“But what, baby?”

“I knew how upset my parents would be.”

Val snorted. “My sister doesn’t use the two brain cells she was given and your father—those two deserve each other. Leila has been putting on airs since we were kids. If we didn’t look so much alike I would wonder if one of us was adopted.”

India wondered the same thing herself. The rest of her family was so down to Earth. “They are my parents, so I guess I’m stuck with them.”

“Unfortunately,” Val said in a deadpan voice. “What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought this far. I still can’t believe I did that.”

“Maybe you should take a vacation. You can take a couple weeks off work can’t you?”

The state did owe her some time off. India had been saving her vacation days for her honeymoon, but seeing how there was no point of that anymore, why not? “Yes, I actually have four weeks to take. I don’t know if I’ll take them all at once, but going away might be a good idea.”

“Most definitely. Besides, as I’ve said before, there comes a time when you realize that you can’t please everyone all the time, so why not please yourself?”

That was the best thing India had heard all day.



* * *



“Are you going to be okay, Rafe? It’s not every day a guy gets divorced.” Grant patted his friend’s shoulder.

Rafe shrugged. “Yeah, I’m okay. Angie and I have been over for months, but now it’s official. I’m better off without her.”

“You’re probably right. I wish it hadn’t cost you so much. She didn’t deserve a dime after what she put you through.”

Rafe sighed. “It’s not as if I’m in the poorhouse. At least she took the lump sum instead of making me pay alimony for God knows how long. Besides, would you rather have had the intimate details of our marriage revealed for public record?”

Grant took another swig of his beer, finishing it off. “Is that why she was able to walk away with so much?”

A mutinous expression crossed Rafe’s face.

Grant knew it well. After twenty-five years of friendship, he knew Rafe better than Rafe knew himself. “She threatened to name me in the divorce, didn’t she?”

“Don’t press the issue, man. I’d rather not talk about it at all. Don’t concern yourself with it. Angie is out of my life—out of our lives.”

Grant threw his hands in the air, frustration taking over. “How can I not concern myself with it? The two of you broke up because of me… I mean, I feel responsible.”

Rafe shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

“But if we hadn’t—”

Rafe held up his hand. “Grant, she was the one to break our agreement. What happened between the three of us should have stayed that way. What we did, didn’t give her license to fuck every Tom, Dick and Harry—and on our bed, for godsake! What we shared was…”

“Special?” Grant finished for him.

There. It was out.

They’d both been avoiding the subject since Rafe had filed for divorce against his wife of three years. Regardless of what his friend said, Grant felt partially, if not completely, responsible for the split. He should have given the couple more space, not visited so much, not called as often. It had been clear from the beginning of Rafe’s marriage that Angie resented the men’s closeness.

The friendship he shared with Rafe was a bond tighter than most, even that of blood. It was hard for most people to understand, especially those on the outside looking in. Grant often wondered how different his life would have turned out if Rafe wasn’t in it. He shuddered as the memories came flooding back.

They’d met not long after Rafe and his mother had moved next door to Grant and his father in Kensington, Philadelphia, a working class neighborhood. Grant had been startled awake by the sound of screaming coming from his neighbor.

“And stay out until you get some fucking manners!” The yell was followed by the slamming of the door.

In most circumstances Grant would have ignored the commotion, but for some reason, curiosity got the better of him. Looking back, he was glad it did, because if he’d pretended not to hear the other boy’s cries drifting to his window, there probably wouldn’t have been a friendship.