Page 8 of The Do-Over

“Wait. Does Mom know?” she asked.

I shook my head, dread settling in my stomach. “I don’t know. She called, but I didn’t answer.”

“I’ll feel her out tonight and let you know.” With a regal tilt of her head, Phee headed toward the door. “See you at lunch tomorrow, right?”

I nodded.

She wheeled to pin Mathias with a hard stare. “And you too, I suppose.”

“Nope. I have plans.” He waggled his brows just in case we didn’t understand what kind of plans.

Phee rolled her eyes.

“Have fun with Joel and the family.” Mathias winked and headed for the bathroom tucked in the hallway.

Phee’s eyes followed him, a wistful expression skipping over her face. “Are you sure you’re okay? I could stay,” she said. “Joel would understand.”

No, he wouldn’t understand, and neither would our mother. This party was Mom’s yearly chance to show off her beautiful, successful daughter. And me. “I’ll be fine. Have fun.”

At the door, she turned quickly and wrapped me in a hug. “Love you, Perci.”

I hugged her back, the tears welling up again, but I blinked them back before they could fall.

FOUR

“A good friend’ll help ya bury the body.

A great friend knows how much rat poison you’ll need.”

—MIMI

“Pass the jalapeño poppers.” Mathias nudged me with a shoulder. Groaning, I leaned forward and pulled the plate onto my lap. He took one and shoved it in his mouth, washing it down with wine straight from the bottle.

“Nothing goes better with pity than jalapeño poppers.” Mathias stuffed a second one in his mouth and talked around it. “Soothes the soul.”

We were sprawled on my couch, watching television and the clock tick down to midnight. “This is a much better way to spend New Year’s Eve than at some stupid party where I have to smile and pretend I’m having fun,” I said.

I hiccupped and thought of the sensible black dress with the cap sleeves and matching velvet jacket hanging in my closet. My mother had picked it out and all but forced me to promise I’d wear it to the party. I hated that dress. But I would have shown up in it anyway. Like I did every year as part of my daughterly duties.

“But we’re missing our chance to bask in the presence of the great Joel Allen.” Mathias snorted. “He picked that dress for Phee? It was hideous. I wanted to snatch that thing right off her.”

I choked on a slug of wine. “I bet you did.”

He frowned, his dark blond eyebrows forming a V. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that.” I grinned. “I wish you two would just make out and get it over with.”

With a groan, he dropped his head to the back of the couch. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Spending New Year’s with your lame-o friend?”

“You aren’t lame.” He twisted his neck to look at me. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this. And tomorrow I’m going to blame it on the alcohol. Remember about two years ago, when your dad had that cancer scare?”

Two years ago, Dad had gone in for a biopsy and the results had come back inconclusive. So, he’d had to go back in for more tests. All of us had been on pins and needles waiting for the results.

“Phee showed up at my apartment one night. She was crying so hard, and she looked so, I don’t know, not put together.” His gaze grew unfocused. “Her hair wasn’t even done. You know how she never lets anyone see it down unless it’s been straightened.”

It was my mom who liked Phee’s hair straightened, actually. But I didn’t correct him.