by A. J. Goode
“But . . . what are you doing here?” he repeated.
“I’m helping your mother with the Christmas fundraiser.” Cassie patted the heavy tote bag that contained Lucille Tanner’s binders full of information. “She gave me all of her notes from the past few years so I can get started.”
“Oh. Well, don’t rush out on my account. You can finish your meeting with her.”
“No, I’m on a schedule. My son will be getting off the bus in twenty minutes. I have to get home.” Son. There, she’d said it. Let that sink in. She had a child now. Miguel’s son. She wiggled her fingers inside her mittens to feel the reassuring weight of her wedding ring.
Aaron recoiled as though he’d been slapped. “How old,” he began, and cleared his throat before starting again. “How old is he?”
“Trevor is almost ten.” So you’ve kept up on the news, she thought. She fought to keep the smug smile from her lips, but then all desire to smile faded as she realized that he must have kept up on all of the news.
Sure enough, she saw the now-familiar look cross his face. The look she had seen on so many faces over the past year, always followed by some variation of the same words that she knew Aaron was about to utter.
“I-I’m sorry about Mikey,” he said, using their childhood nickname for Miguel. “I’m so sorry. If there’s anything you need—“
“Yeah, yeah.” Cassie waved aside his sympathy. “It’s been a year, Aaron. He was your best friend. What I needed was for you to show up for the funeral. He needed that. He deserved that. But I guess you were just too busy to show up, huh? Too busy to even call or send flowers or even a card. Nothing from you. Nada. Some best friend you turned out to be.”
“We weren’t best friends anymore,” he corrected her. “That all ended when he married my fiancée. Or maybe you forgot about that part.”
“You need to move on, Aaron. Everyone else has. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get home.” It took everything she had to walk past him and out the door without looking back. She stalked across the frozen grass to her car, taking care not to look at his dusty SUV parked beside her sturdy minivan.
Perhaps it was time for her to follow her own advice, she admitted, starting the motor and hugging herself while she waited for the engine to warm up. It had, after all, been more than a decade since she’d last seen Aaron face-to-face, and she’d thought she’d gotten over the heartache a long time ago. She shouldn’t have allowed him to see her get so rattled.
Shivering, she cast an envious glance at his big, expensive-looking SUV. I’ll bet that thing has seat warmers, she thought. Or maybe they don’t have to worry about cold butts in Texas.
Cassie shook her head and started backing slowly out of the driveway. The last thing she needed to be worrying about right now was Aaron Tanner or his butt, cold or not.
