Chapter 3 - The Gathering of the Ghosts
"Hey," Jamar said as I descended the stairs. He had set his briefcase on the hall table, unbuttoning his collar. "I saw your car outside. Everything okay with the client meeting?"
"The client rescheduled," I said calmly, meeting his eyes. "Which gave me time to run an errand."
He smiled, walking forward to kiss my cheek, but I instinctively stepped sideways toward the kitchen island, placing the granite counter between us. His smile vanished, replaced by that familiar, defensive tightness around his mouth that had irritated me for three months.
"Elena, come on," he sighed, throwing his hands up slightly. "Are we still doing this cold shoulder routine? I thought we moved past yesterday. I told you, Lily was just emotional about her divorce. She’s my oldest friend, and she’s having a breakdown."
"She certainly is," I said evenly. "Which is why I think we should do something special for her."
Jamar blinked, caught completely flat-footed by my sudden change in demeanor. "What do you mean?"
"She’s lonely, Jamar. She’s constantly coming over here looking for family because she feels untethered," I continued, keeping my voice smooth as silk. "So I decided to invite her over for dinner tomorrow night. Just the three of us. A proper home-cooked meal so we can have an honest, transparent conversation about the future."
Jamar’s shoulders relaxed visibly. A relieved grin broke across his handsome face. "Seriously? You’d do that? Babe, thank you. God, you have no idea how much stress this takes off me. I hate feeling like I’m caught in the middle of the two most important women in my life."
The two most important women.
The phrase made bile rise in the back of my throat, but I forced my lips into a polite, warm curve. "Of course. Go ahead and text her. Tell her seven o'clock sharp. Tell her I’m making her favorite rosemary lamb chops."
"You're the best," he said, pulling out his phone instantly, his thumbs flying across the screen with that eager speed that had tortured me for weeks.
"Oh, Jamar?" I added, pausing at the threshold of the hallway.
He looked up. "Yeah?"
"Don't worry about picking up dessert. I invited a fourth guest to join us. Someone who can help us all gain a little perspective."
"Who? Marcus from track?"
"You'll see tomorrow," I said softly. "It's going to be an unforgettable reunion."
The next evening arrived under a heavy, overcast sky.
By 6:45 p.m., the house smelled rich with roasted garlic, seared lamb, and fresh herbs. The dining table was set with our finest crystal wine glasses, bone china plates, and heavy silver cutlery—the exact setting we had used for our anniversary party.
At 6:55 p.m., the doorbell rang.
Jamar hurried to open it.
Lily stepped inside, practically glowing with smug triumph. She wore a backless emerald-green slip dress that looked more appropriate for a romantic rooftop lounge than a private dinner at an old friend’s home. She carried a chilled bottle of vintage champagne, laughing as she kissed Jamar on both cheeks, lingering close enough that her perfume instantly engulfed the entryway.
"Happy Friday, handsome!" she purred, handing him the bottle. Then she turned toward me in the kitchen, her eyes glittering with victorious mockery. "Elena! What a lovely surprise. When Jamar told me you wanted to host me, I was thrilled. I’m so glad we can put all that silly tension behind us."
"So am I, Lily," I replied, stepping out of the kitchen holding a basket of warm bread. "Sit down, please. Make yourself comfortable."
Lily glided into the dining room, taking the chair directly opposite Jamar, leaving me the head of the table. She ran her fingers playfully along the stem of her empty glass. "Jamar mentioned you invited a fourth person? A mutual friend from college?"
"Not quite college," I said, glancing at the antique wall clock as the hands hit 7:02 p.m.
Right on cue, two firm, heavy knocks sounded at the front door.
Jamar frowned, setting the champagne down. "I'll get it."
"No, Jamar," I said, stepping between him and the hall. "Stay seated. I'll open the door for our guest of honor."
Lily took a sip of water, smiling condescendingly at Jamar across the table as I walked toward the front entryway.
I unlocked the deadbolt, pulled the heavy door open, and stepped aside.
Bradley stood on the porch.
He wore a dark charcoal suit, carrying a leather portfolio under one arm, his expression stern, composed, and completely devoid of fear.
May you like
"Evening, Elena," he said politely.
"Good evening, Bradley. Come on in. Everyone is waiting."
