Page 10 of WASP

“Good,” Annie breathed, a little uneasy around Danielle, given the fact that Danielle, Avery, and Caroline had all been best friends at some point but had had a falling out that still to this day no one talked about. This was exactly why she hated being back in Wellington Point. “I’m just going to go.” She motioned to the door as she moved behind Danielle, slipping out of the restroom.

Back at the car, she sat in silence as her mind turned over every excruciating minute of embarrassment lived today, magnified by the fact that not only had a good portion of the town taken part in her humiliation, but that portion included Caroline’s parents.

A rapid tapping yanked her from her thoughts as her mom drummed her nails on the window. “Unlock the car, please.”

Annie obliged. But not without first imagining what her mom would have to say about the scene she had made, leaving the church. Her mom rounded the car, sliding into the driver’s seat without saying anything. That silence continued as they exited the parking lot, but instead of taking the usual left to head home, her mother turned right.

Her mom’s voice was as nonchalant as if she were picking up a conversation that had been ongoing. “I thought we could grab brunch. How often is it that you and I get one-on-one time like this?”

Annie fought the urge to toss back her impulsive response, which was pretty often considering she was currently living at their house with zero plans of going anywhere anytime soon, but she decided to take this invitation for what it was—her mother’s peace offering and way of saying Please, for the love of God, let’s not talk about the scene you made inside.

They pulled into the parking lot of Mae’s Tavern—home of the best waffles in all of Connecticut in Annie’s opinion, which was saying something considering the large number she had consumed in her life. From the shitty self-service waffle bars at cheap hotels, to the one a.m. drunken chocolate chip waffles she loved making, to the amazingly fluffy waffle sticks at that one resort in Turks and Caicos she and Caroline had stayed at—Annie had tried them all.

She followed her mother inside, waffles still on the brain, side-stepping the people tightly packed into the reception area waiting for their tables. Her mom gave the hostess their last name, not so casually dropping that she was Andrew Dillinger Sr.’s wife, as if that made any difference at all.

They stepped aside to wait, and Annie half-listened as her mom went on and on about Charlotte’s most recent dance recital.

“And you know, they’re five, so no one is really expecting much, but our little Charlotte, she’s so advanced for her age. So graceful. Just like Avery. Lord knows she doesn’t get it from Brett.”

Annie’s gaze drifted, distracted by the pleasing shape of the most perfect ass she had ever seen standing directly behind her mom. She didn’t know if it was because it had been over two months since she had had sex (thank you, horrific breakup) or because she was finally feeling like she could look at other women without feeling guilty. Whatever it was, however, surprised her as she quickly looked away, not wanting to get caught staring. But a moment later, she snuck another glance, eyes trailing from black leather lace-up boots up slender legs.

Her mother continued, completely oblivious to Annie’s wandering gaze. “Charlotte was practically dancing circles around that Gregory girl.”

“Martin, party of two,” the hostess called. Annie averted her gaze once more, watching the two women—perfect ass girl included—head towards the hostess.

“What’s her name? Andrew went to high school with the mother’s brother—ow!”

Dark hair whipped around as the woman with the perfect ass turned to face them. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were so close behind me,” she said sincerely. “I hope you’re okay.”

The voice was familiar, but Annie couldn’t figure out why. The brunette looked at her with clear blue eyes that instantly played the memory of a flash of a white, shiny rectangle against the McCallum-Windsor green quarter-zip and the name Max.

“Annie?”

The drink cart girl! Perfect ass girl was Max, from the country club.

“Oh, u-uh,” Annie stammered—okay, a little more awkward than she intended. “Hi. Max, right?” she said hesitantly, hoping that her impeccable memory wasn’t about to fail her.

“Yeah, hi, um.” She tucked an unruly strand of thick dark brown hair behind her ear.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Annie’s mom cut in, a sing-songy tone to her voice that was code for, You’re being rude.

“Oh, um—we’re not really—” Annie started, not really sure how to explain her mother’s wild overstep in assumptions.

“I’m Max. Annie and I met at the country club last week,” Max filled in, holding out her hand. Annie noticed the way Max had conveniently left out how they had met.

“Nice to meet you, Max. And is this your mother?” her mom asked quizzically, scrutinizing the woman standing behind Max.

“No, this is my lover, Lynn,” Max said, straightfaced, but Annie couldn’t hold back the snort that left her body as she fought to contain her laughter.

Her mother’s expression was frozen between clear discomfort and not wanting to be rude.

“I’m kidding,” Max assured, the hint of amusement hanging on her words. “This is Lynn, but she’s my friend, not my lover.”

“Martin, party of two,” the hostess called again.

“We should go,” Lynn said quietly, not quite making eye contact with Annie or her mom.

Max smiled, looking directly at Annie, light making the cool tones of her irises sparkle. “See you around?”