New Friends

EVIE

When I woke the next morning, Sam was all gentle and concerned for my health. “Are you sure you’re up for Christmas Eve with my family, angel? I know Carla and John are going to be there. I don’t want them to stress you out if that’ll be bad for the pregnancy.”

I laughed, remembering my chat with Fernando from a few days ago and wondering what to expect from this John guy. “I think that’ll be more stressful for you than for me, baby. Anyway, I’m feeling better. No way are we blowing off your parents.”

Talk about a terrible impression. I wasn’t going to be the woman who kept their son from them on Christmas.

When we arrived at the house, the first thing we heard was a man’s voice echoing through the living room—so loud I’d have sworn it was an uninvited houseguest, but upon further listening, I realized it was a football commentator on television.

Sam and I glanced at each other, confused that nobody had shown up at the door to greet us, but to be fair, more than likely they hadn’t even heard us come in.

We cruised around the corner into the den, spotting a strange man sitting in Regina’s recliner beside Sam’s father, Fernando.

“There you two are.” Fernando smiled, rising from his armchair. “John and I were just watching the game.”

John did a double take when he spotted me, and his sable irises raked over me a little too long for my comfort. Then he peeled himself from the flatscreen for introductions.

He approached with a beaming white grin. His rich complexion was slightly darker than Saanvi’s, and he wore dark-blue jeans and a solid-black button-up.

He looked a little uncomfortable, actually, tugging at the collar a couple times like it itched. I guessed he normally just wore his jersey, being in the NFL and all. Maybe even this small nod to formalwear was strange for him.

“This is my son Sam and his girlfriend Evie,” Fernando said.

I knew that Sam and I were happy together, but I couldn’t help but wonder how he felt about meeting John for the first time. Meeting his ex-wife’s new husband had to sting a little, no matter what.

John grasped Sam’s hand for a quick shake before taking mine, sure to stroke my palm with his thumb.

“And yes, I am ~the~ John Wyatt,” he said.

I politely refrained from mentioning that I had no interest in football and had never even heard the name “John Wyatt” until Carla mentioned it.

It was clear this guy was full of himself, and that he had no shame about sticking his hands in another man’s cookie jar.

The way that his smoky eyes occasionally darted to my breasts made me want to put my jacket back on. Evidently, a black dress with a scoop neckline had been a horrible choice.

“Okay, uh…” I tugged my hand back as Sam’s mother entered from the kitchen, followed by Carla. “Regina, do you need any help with anything?”

“Sure,” she said, smiling. “You, Sam, and Carla can set the table if you’d like.”

~All three of us? Really? I was asking partly to avoid having to talk to Carla so soon.~

“Come on,” said Carla imperiously, leading us into the dining room without bothering to say hello.

I realized I’d never learned what Carla did for a living, but the way she directed us to set the damn table put all my own family gatherings to shame. Red napkins in golden rings, forest-green plates, and clear crystal wine glasses at each setting.

I, of course, would stick with ice water, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have it in a fancy glass.

“Hey, babe?” John called out from the couch as Carla was straightening her last row of cutlery. “Get me another beer, will ya?”

“She looks a little busy there, John,” Fernando muttered.

“Nah, it’s fine,” John said with a wave of his hand. “She’s not doing anything.”

Sam’s father inhaled, preparing to speak for Carla, but she interrupted. “It’s okay. I’ve got it.” She hurried into the kitchen, returning with a Coors Light that she set down on the coffee table next to three empty ones. “Here you go, babe.”

John’s only reply was a grunt, his eyes glued to the screen.

~Well, he seems like a prize.~

The TV only went off once we sat down for supper, but hey, John wasn’t my problem. I couldn’t wait to dig into my plate full of ham, mashed potatoes, a various number of vegetables, and a sizable amount of gravy.

The sounds of pouring wine and clanking flatware signaled that everybody had a similar idea.

Regina sat on my left, across from John, while Sam sat to my right at the end of the table. Carla shot me a cool look that said she hadn’t forgotten how I’d told her off a few weeks ago. But most of her attention was on John, like she was making sure he had enough to eat.

“How’s your interior design business coming along, Carla?” Fernando asked from the table’s head.

“It’s slow,” John interjected before Carla could answer. “I keep telling her she should do something more meaningful with her time, like manage my social media accounts. I’d pay ~hella~ well, and she’d rake in ~way~ more cash.”

I glanced at Carla, who stared at her plate. “Maybe you’re right, babe,” she said quietly. “This whole interior design idea was probably stupid.”

Something about her felt so different from the firebrand I’d met at that last dinner. Her sharp edges were dulled, and rather than going on the offensive and commanding attention, she looked like she wanted to disappear.

“Well,” I said, “if this table spread is anything to go on, I think you’re probably a great designer. It all looks like a photo from a holiday edition of ~Better Homes and Gardens~ magazine.”

~“She might need some family,”~ Fernando had said. I was starting to see why.

“How’s the baby doing?” Regina asked me, smiling.

“Growing strong,” Sam said with a grin.

“Oh, congratulations,” John said, raising his near-empty beer can in my direction.

I shot him a nod, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t have even known you were carrying a child,” John said. “Carla’s bigger than you, and she isn’t even pregnant.”

My mashed potatoes hovered on my fork in front of my mouth, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat them after John’s insensitive comment about Carla’s weight. As I placed the lump of food back onto my plate, Carla slid herself from the table and headed for the kitchen.

I glanced at Sam and his parents, who stared back in the same shock, but no one dared to speak. Carla wasn’t overweight in the slightest, but even if she had been, you ~never~ talk to a woman like that.

John chewed calmly. “Oh, don’t wait for her. She’s probably off texting her friends—glued to her phone, that woman. She’ll be back.”

Sam raised his brows when I stood to follow Carla. “Where’re you going?”

“I’ll be right back,” I muttered.

I wandered through the living room and entered the kitchen just in time to see Carla patting the corners of her eyes dry with a paper towel.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Why do you care?” she asked, twisting away from me like she was ashamed I’d caught her in a vulnerable time.

“Because I love Sam, and you’re still a part of his life,” I said, stepping toward her. “You were married for ten years, so a part of you must still love him too.” After a moment of silence, I continued. “Is John always like this?”

“He didn’t use to be,” she said, turning to face me. “When we met, we were a good fit. I liked showing him off, and he liked showing me off.”

She shot me a crooked smile, more genuine than anything I’d seen from her up until now. “I accused you of gold-digging the last time we met, but honestly, I’m not much better. What can I say? I like high-status men.

“But John? Ever since his career took off, he’s been insufferable. He can’t resist little digs about my weight, about my business. I hate that he’s doing this in front of Sam’s family. It’s like nothing I ever do is good enough for the great John Wyatt.”

“Have you tried talking to him?” I asked.

“When I do, he tells me if I’m unhappy, I should leave.”

~Why doesn’t that surprise me?~

“Well…” I shrugged. “Maybe you should.”

“Divorced twice?” Carla scoffed. “’Cause that’ll look good on my record…”

“Anyone too stupid to appreciate you doesn’t deserve to be on your record anyway,” I said stoutly.

Carla still wasn’t my favorite person, but she was honest, she was fierce, and she did deserve someone who would respect that.

Carla scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Jocks.”

“Jocks,” I echoed with a smirk.

“Don’t tell anybody,” she said. “But I’m starting to understand why Sam likes you.”

“Don’t worry,” I whispered with a grin. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Sam’s voice sounded from the entryway, making Carla and me both jump. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded and shot him a smile.

“Hey, babe?” John yelled from the other room. “Be a doll and get me another beer while you’re in there.”

Carla sighed and stalked over to the stainless-steel refrigerator. On her way back, she was sure to vigorously shake the can.

“He wants his beer?” Carla huffed, glancing at me. “I’ll give him his goddamn beer…”

I smiled at her mischievous sneer, and Sam and I accompanied her back to our seats in the dining area.

After we parked ourselves at the table, John cracked his can. Immediately, hissing fizz shot from the opening, dousing his shirt, face, and hair in carbonation.

I tried to suppress a grin at the sight of his slack jaw, his shocked, damp expression. Then he erupted in anger.

“What the hell?” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “Did you drop this or something, Carla?”

“That’s so weird,” Carla said, her words embroidered with an obviously false sympathy. “I don’t know what happened.”

John stormed from his chair and down the hallway to clean himself up.

“To divorce papers.” Carla grinned, hoisting her wine glass in the air. “And to new friends.”

“Hear, hear,” said Fernando, raising his own glass. “You can do better, hon.”

“When he comes back, he’s cleaning that beer off my floor,” said Regina, frowning at the sticky puddle he’d left behind.

I smiled and raised my crystal, clanking it against Carla’s, then against Sam’s.

“To second chances,” Carla said next, looking only at Sam. “With the way John talks about my business…I guess I’m realizing how unfair I’ve been to yours. You’re a good man and a hard worker, Sam Vázquez.”

“Thanks, Carla,” said Sam, sounding touched and offering his glass for another clink.

Carla put a hand on his wrist, holding it there beyond when the toast probably could’ve ended. “As your girlfriend said to me in the kitchen…there’s probably a part of me that’ll always be in love with you. We’re family.”

She blinked and then turned, deliberately including Fernando, Regina, and me in that statement. “All of us.”

“Family,” I echoed, taking part in one more toast. But my jovial mood had slipped a bit. I couldn’t stop seeing Carla’s hand on Sam’s wrist, and the way her voice had dipped when she said those words. “In love with you.”

~Maybe I liked Carla better when she was a little meaner, after all.~