Молли Харпер - And One Last Thing...

“Emmett, you said she sucked at relationships!” Kirk exclaimed. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Emmett!” I yelled. “That’s not fair! I’ve only had two relationships in the last decade!”

“Sounds healthier than my last three relationships,” Peter said.

“I was at least one of those relationships,” Emmett said. “Ass.”

Peter shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“So what went wrong, Lacey?” asked Thomas, who seemed to be the group moderator.

“He found out that I’d been offered a job writing e-mail newsletters for other woman like me, and he told me he thought it was a bad idea. He got really upset about it, thought it would damage my soul or something. I told him I’d drop it, but I was still considering it. I mean, the woman who offered me the job kept upping the salary -”

At that, the tribe winced collectively, making a unified “ooooh” sound, as if they’d been kicked in the gut.

“So you, basically, lied to him,” Peter said.

“Well, it sounds really bad when you put it that way,” I protested. “Don’t I get a say in how I’m going to make my living?”

Thomas poured more wine. “Sure. Claim your personal power. Be the master of your destiny. But expect some fallout when a man tells you that it’s really important to him that you don’t do something and then you go behind his back and do it anyway. Whether it’s going after a job you want, or say, cheating, when you use deception, you have to accept the consequences.”

I frowned. This conversation was not going the way I’d expected. I thought Emmett’s friends were morally obligated to fuss, ply me with regional wines, and make me feel better. This whole mirror of truth exercise was not as fun.

“So how did Mike play into all this?” Emmett asked.

“He came up to the cabin in his usual way, trying to bluster his way through and act like nothing happened. He had the nerve to get pissy and territorial with Monroe.”

“That must have been hilarious,” Emmett hooted. “Like a Pekingese going after a pit bull.”

I chuckled. “Mostly it was just sad. I didn’t like Monroe acting like he owned me now and when I told him that -”

“Oh, honey, no.” Kirk shook his head. “Even I know you’re not supposed to do that. You don’t defend the old flame to the new flame. Even indirectly.”

“You know that because I told you that,” Peter retorted. “So let me guess, Lacey, you started arguing about ownership. You brought up the job issue. He exploded because you lied to him.”

Emmett interjected, “He told you a bunch of stuff you didn’t want to hear about being a grown-up and a better person, and then you flounced away.”

“I wouldn’t use the word ‘flounce… ” I grumbled.

“Fail,” Kirk said. “Epic Fail.”

“Kirk, we’ve agreed that you do not tweet during polite conversation,” Emmett warned him. “It dates you. And it’s obnoxious.”

“Fine.” Kirk huffed. “It was a fail-ure.”

“What is going on here?” I cried. “I thought you said you would sympathize!”

“That was before we got all the details,” Emmett said dismissively. “He introduced you to his family, Lace. That means something. Do you know how long it took Peter to introduce me to his family?”

“Don’t bring that up again, Em,” Peter sighed, sinking back on the couch and crossing his arms.

“Two years!” Emmett exclaimed. “And I had to pretend to be his roommate.”

“I dated a guy who didn’t care what I did for a living as long as it meant he could sponge off of me and write Grey’s Anatomy fan-fiction all day,” Thomas said, his lips twisted into a wry expression.

“I still live with my mother,” Kirk said. “That should tell you about the kind of guys I date. So I think it’s safe to say that any of us would have killed to be in your position.”

“Wait.” I sipped wine to fortify myself before ranting. “So, according to you guys, I was wrong, then followed it up by being more wrong. Then I finished up by being unreasonable and unappreciative of what I had?”

After a moment’s consideration, they all nodded. “That just about sums it up, yes,” Thomas said.

“This has not been helpful, at all.”

Thomas took my chin in his hand and made me look him in the eye. “Sweetheart, if you want someone to cuddle you and stroke your ego, get a dog. But we will always tell you the truth, which is why a lot of people don’t spend time with us. You’ve screwed up. And you’ve screwed up big. Own it, apologize for it. Either make up with him or move on.”

I frowned, draining the last of my wine. “Can I get a second opinion from a panel of lesbians?”

“No,” Emmett told me. “All verdicts are final, no appeals. Who wants dessert?”

Emmett was never one to let me dwell. The bastard.

Instead of being a decent brother, he allowed me only two days of wallowing in the intensely cheerful comfort of his guest room before forcing me to come in to work with him.

“Come on. Up and at ‘em, kid,” he called as he poured himself a cup of coffee at his kitchen counter. “There are no free lunches in this house - what the hell are you wearing?”

I looked down at my usual daytime ensemble of yoga pants and a hoodie. “What? This is what I’ve been wearing during the day.”

“Well, then, my darling sister, it wasn’t luck that landed you Monroe. It was a miracle.”

“Keep the gloves above the belt, Em,” I muttered. “You’re the one who’s told me for years that I dress like a Junior League fembot. I’ve just taken your advice and relaxed a bit.”

“You left ‘a bit’ behind a long time ago, Lacey,” he said, dragging me into the guest room and going through the dresser drawers. “We need to find you a happy medium.”

I flopped down on the four-poster canopy bed, wallowing in the mussed white eyelet spread. Emmett’s guest room was a 1950s teenager’s dream come true. Candy-striped pink-and-white wallpaper, the princess bed, and a picture of Elvis in his army uniform on the refurbished nightstand. He didn’t even like Elvis. He just loved a good theme. Emmett’s own room was a little less innocent, a lot more Pier 1 Imports. I loved my brother, but he was a throw-pillow junkie. I’d been planning on an intervention before Cherry Click came along and derailed the course of my existence.

That seemed so long ago now, like it had happened to someone else. And yet, the idea of going into town with Emmett was exhausting. So far I’d managed to dash into town to visit Sam’s office without encountering any of my former Singletree friends and neighbors. Once people knew I was helping Emmett at The Auctionarium, they’d make up any excuse to come by for a chat, just to get a look at me.

I could probably deal with being a sideshow attraction if I wasn’t busy throwing myself a big Monroe-based pity party. At the moment I just wanted to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head.

“Come on, Lacey, out of bed, this stopped being cute about five minutes ago,” he said, tossing dark jeans and a tomato-red sweater at me. “If you’re going to stay with me, you’re going to pull your weight, which means coming into the store and humoring the cranky techno-phobic geriatrics who insist they could get ten thousand dollars for their mothers’ china if they took it to Sotheby’s.”

“Well, you make it sound so attractive,” I snarked, tossing the sweater back at him. “Why do you even have women’s clothes here?”

“Merry Christmas,” he said, opening the guest room closet to show me several color-coordinated, accessorized outfits in my sizes. “When you left Mike, I figured there would be a makeover at some point. Though, I’ll be honest, I thought it would be sooner. I like to be prepared.”