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“I’m okay. Thank you, though.” She dug into the shopping bag she’d brought with her and pulled out a wrapped box. “I wanted to give you this.”
Sabrina looked confused, so she elaborated. “It’s your shower gift. Just some bath oils and candles I thought would suit you, but if you don’t like them, I left the receipt so you can return them.”
“I’m sure they’re fantastic, but why not give them—”
Vicky held up her hand. “I won’t be at the shower.”
“Oh.”
“And more than that. Sabrina, I’m so honored that you and Noah wanted to include me in your wedding, but I can’t do it. I just can’t. It’s too hard. Not,” she said when she saw Sabrina’s expression, “I mean, not watching Noah marry you. I am absolutely, unequivocally so happy for you both. I just don’t belong up there, you know? I’m not really part of the family.”
Sabrina opened her mouth as if she might object but stopped herself. She studied Vicky for a long moment.
“Do you miss him?” she asked, and Vicky knew she didn’t mean Noah.
“I do,” she admitted.
Wordlessly, Sabrina stood and pulled Vicky into another hug. Vicky sank into it, resting her head against the shorter women’s wild poof of blond hair.
Somehow in this whole crazy fiasco, she had gained a friend. And for that, she was grateful.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ryder was doing the noble thing and letting her go. He didn’t have a lot of experience doing the noble thing (and even less giving enough of a shit for there to even be a noble thing), but so far, it was pretty miserable.
He’d let himself wallow for a few days—he assumed that’s what you’d call him sleeping till two and ordering takeout and not bothering to get dressed; he didn’t have a lot of experience wallowing either.
But today he had thrown on his Professor McNobody outfit and headed out to the park. He figured he couldn’t stay in his apartment forever, and frankly, he wanted to see the kids. They knew him. They liked him. They didn’t judge. The only people like that he had in his life. At least now that Vic was gone.
Most of the regular kids were there, shooting baskets. Ryder settled onto his usual bench and took out his sketch pad. The air was brisk, the sky a brilliant blue. It felt good to be outside, if not completely out of his head. A few tiny flowers had started to bud along the grassy borders of the park. He started to sketch them absently, but somewhere along the way the drawing turned into a sketch of Vicky’s profile. Pathetic.
“Yo, Mr. R!” James dropped to sprawl on the bench next to him. Ryder hadn’t even heard him approach.
“Hey.”
The kid leaned over to look at his work. “Nice! Where’s she at today?”
It was an innocent question, but to Ryder, it felt like a punch to the gut. Still, not James’s fault. He attempted a careless shrug. “She’s not going to be coming here with me anymore.” What’re gonna do, right?
“Oh.” James looked suddenly serious. “Dude. I’m sorry.”
It ought to have been laughable that this kid was offering him sympathy over a woman at the ripe age of fourteen, but Ryder would take what he could get.
“Thanks, man.” Beside him, the teen shifted awkwardly. “James?”
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
What could he possibly get mad about? “Sure.”
“She came around here. I was talking to her. We-we all were. She wanted to know all about the art stuff we been doing. Something about a big project she wants to start with a bunch of artists and stuff. I swear, we thought she was your friend. If we knew you guys were over, we wouldn’t of given her the time of day.”
Vicky was putting together an art initiative? He was floored. Then he was flattered. She must have gotten the idea when he’d brought her here. His lips stretched slowly into a grin. Well, he’d be damned. She’d do an amazing job, of course. Take his casual afternoon getaways and turn them into something that would make a difference for hundreds, probably thousands of kids.
“Good for her, James. Good for her.”
* * *
When Ryder got back to his building, his mother was there waiting for him. She didn’t say she’d been waiting for him, but he recognized the town car out front, and she arrived at his door a mere five minutes after he’d walked in. He had given up on asking the doorman not to let people up.
