Sarah Mayberry - One Good Reason

Enough in common, really, to seed a host of unanswerable questions in Gabby’s mind. But as she reminded herself regularly, Tyler had made his choice, and she was happy for him. Anything else was a waste of energy.

Which meant she didn’t need to worry about lipstick. She was having dinner with two of her good friends. End of story.

Before she could examine her navel any more, she got out of the car and made her way up the well-lit path to Tyler and Ally’s porch. The door opened before she could knock and Ally greeted her with a hug. Dressed in an aqua dress with white embroidery around the hemline, she looked fresh and bright.

“I was beginning to think you were never going to show up,” she said.

“Sorry. I got held up at work.”

“As usual. Your boss is a slave driver.”

“Don’t look at me—it’s the office manager who wields the whip,” Tyler said as he joined them in the wide entrance hall. He kissed Gabby’s cheek. “Happy early birthday.”

Gabby laughed. “I can honestly say that’s the first time I’ve heard those words pass your lips.”

“What can I say? Forgetting dates is a guy thing.”

Ally poked him in the ribs. “You’re on increasingly thin ice with that one, mister. All the latest research is showing that there’s precious little difference between the male and female brain.”

Tyler captured her hand in one of his to save himself from further prodding.

“I kind of like the differences. Don’t know about you,” he said, smiling into his wife’s face.

Gabby looked away. She could tell herself she was happy for Tyler until the cows came home, but there was no getting around the fact that seeing the way he looked at Ally made her chest ache.

Not once in three years had he ever looked at her in the same way. Not once.

Which is why he married her and not you, dufus .

“Something smells great,” she said, sniffing appreciatively.

Ally hooked her arm through Gabby’s. “I made us Moroccan meatballs with preserved lemons, pistachio couscous and orange-and-date salad.”

“We’re going through a Moroccan stage,” he explained as they walked toward the open living space at the rear of the house.

“Well, you know me, anything that I didn’t cook myself is manna from heaven,” Gabby said.

“Good. Tyler was worried it might be too exotic for you.”

Ally released Gabby’s arm to pour wine into three of the four glasses on the counter.

“Here’s to you,” Ally said as she passed Gabby a glass.

“Yeah, happy birthday, Gab,” Tyler said.

Gabby clinked glasses, distracted by the single flute still on the counter. It was possible, of course, that Tyler or Ally had simply put out one too many. She hoped like hell that was what had happened, because the alternative was that someone else was joining them for dinner. And since it was a small and cosy family affair, she had a horrible feeling she might know who that fourth person might be.

Right on cue, the doorbell rang. Gabby’s stomach dipped with foreboding.

“I’ll get it,” Tyler said.

“We thought it might be nice to have Jon over, too,” Ally explained as he disappeared to answer the door. “We’ve barely seen him since he’s been back, because he was in Woodend so long. Now he’s here, I’ve been bugging him to come for dinner every night, and finally he said yes.”

Ally looked pleased. Gabby could only imagine how she looked. Constipated? Bilious? The last thing she wanted was to sit around a table making polite conversation with Tyler’s knuckle-dragging brother.

“Wasn’t sure what you guys were having, so I brought red and white,” Jon said as he and Tyler appeared.

Jon’s step faltered when he saw her standing there.

“Evening,” she said, raising her glass.

For some reason his obvious discomfort made her feel better, made her feel less childish for being unhappy about him being here.

“Hi.” Jon was frowning slightly as he put down the bottles of wine he’d brought.

“Finally I get you in my clutches. I’m determined to put some meat back on those bones, you know,” Ally said, planting a kiss on his cheek and giving him a warm hug.

Jon hugged her as warmly, a faint smile on his face. Ally seemed very small in comparison to his big body. Gabby experienced an odd clench of … something as she watched them embrace.

Looking away, she swallowed a big mouthful of wine. Everybody loved Ally, it seemed. Even the arrogant, standoffish brother.

“Have some wine. We’re toasting Gabby,” Tyler said.

Jon’s expression was unreadable as he accepted a drink.

“Gab, you know I’d be a mess without you. You’re my right-hand woman. Hope this makes up for all the other birthdays I’ve forgotten,” Tyler said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Gabby saw Jon tense as he registered the occasion. As she’d suspected, Ally hadn’t told him tonight was her birthday dinner. In fact, given that small giveaway hesitation when he’d first entered, Gabby was pretty damn sure he hadn’t known she was going to be here. No doubt he would have come up with an ironclad excuse otherwise. Lord knew, she would have if she’d known.

“Happy birthday, Gabby,” Ally echoed.

Some instinct made Gabby glance at Jon as she took a drink. She saw him lift his glass to his mouth, tilt it and wet his lips. But he didn’t open his mouth. It was over in a split second, so fast she almost thought she’d imagined it, but she hadn’t.

Jon had faked drinking a toast in her honor.

Wow. He must really dislike her.

She was surprised how much the realization stung. Then she gave herself a mental shake. She didn’t care what he thought of her. The idea was laughable. Ludicrous. She’d met him only two days ago, and what she knew of him proclaimed him to be a screwup of the highest order—she should consider it a badge of honor that he didn’t like her, not a slap in the face.

Tyler crossed to the sideboard to collect a small, neatly wrapped box. “From us.”

Gabby took the box, very aware of the tall figure standing at the edge of her peripheral vision.

“This is awfully small for the company car I’ve been campaigning for.”

“Next year,” Tyler said.

Gabby tugged the pretty silver ribbon free and lifted the lid. Inside, a pair of stud earrings rested on a velvet cushion. Set with golden-brown gems, they sparkled in the overhead light.

“They’re beautiful,” Gabby breathed.

“They’re golden beryls. I saw them and thought they were a match for your eyes,” Ally said. “Tyler couldn’t remember if your ears are pierced, but I was pretty sure you wore earrings to his birthday in August.”

“My ears are pierced.” Gabby touched one of the glittering stones, trying not to be hurt that Tyler couldn’t remember. He’d been in her apartment, in her bedroom, hundreds of times. Had he really forgotten her messy jewelry box? And what about the time she’d freaked out over sucking up one of her favorite earrings in the vacuum cleaner? Had everything pre-Ally been consigned to the archives of his mind?

“If you don’t like them, we won’t be offended if you want to swap them for something else,” Ally said.

Gabby realized she’d been silent for too long and she offered her hosts—her friends—a big smile.

“They’re absolutely perfect. Gorgeous. In fact …”

She eased the earrings from the box. A few seconds later she let her hands fall to her sides and offered herself up to Ally and Tyler’s scrutiny. “How do they look?”

“Just as I imagined,” Ally said.

Gabby stepped forward to kiss her cheek in thanks. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

Ally drew her into a hug, squeezing her tight. “It was my pleasure.”