Free A Smile as Sweet as Poison by Helena Maeve Page B

her voluminous Louis Vuitton handbag. “I have, like, a hundred notifications—”
    “You know I’m not going,” Hazel said, a little stung. You know why.
    Sadie looked up, but whatever she’d meant to say was arrested behind powder-pink lips while their waitress returned with their order. Silence loomed over the table for a few precious seconds. Then Sadie found her voice again. “I think you should.”
    “Really?”
    Her sister-in-law had been singing that same song for months. Five years wasn’t enough time to move on with their lives, but apparently the university had decided to do something new this year. All alumni were invited back to campus, from the class of 1989 to 2009, and every single one in between.
    Had she remained in school, Hazel’s name would have been on the 2009 roster.
    “It’ll be good for you,” Sadie argued. “And with Ward and Dylan—”
    Hazel barked out a laugh. “Oh, because you think I should drag them along for the spectacle?” It wasn’t the humid afternoon heat that had her feeling as if she was suffocating.
    “What spectacle? It’s just a stupid reunion… A few speeches, happy hour. Maybe a little dancing. We’ll take pictures and we’ll leave.”
    “You’re going?” The bottom dropped out on Hazel’s insides. From the waist down, her whole body melted into a puddle of festering betrayal.
    Sadie nodded. “Frank thinks we should. He wants me to be proud of my accomplishments…”
    “But you hated college.”
    “That was back then. I was a stupid kid.”
    And two months ago, when you were driving up the Santa Monica mountains and you called me from the car asking where your best years had gone, was that ‘back then’, too? Hazel pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, throat tight.
    “Then you should go.”
    “Hazel—”
    “I’m serious.” The latte tasted sour. Hazel licked her unrouged lips. “You should go, say hi to everyone. Show Frank how far you’ve come.” From college grad to diner waitress, the rollercoaster of her life only went up, up, up.
    “That’s not fair.”
    Hazel flinched. “No. It’s not. But neither is this… I’m not you, Sadie. I don’t have a ring on my finger. I’m not getting married.” She pushed her tall, milky drink aside. “And I didn’t graduate, so what’s the point? I’m not invited anyway.”
    “Don’t you want Ward and Dylan to see you for who you really are?”
    There was nothing more terrifying. Hazel scratched at her neck, where the collar should have been. “This is who I am. I’ll be thirty soon. I’ve got no time for might-have-beens.” And neither do you.
    They stared each other down over the table for a long, precious moment. Then Sadie looked away, training her inky eyes onto the stretch of gold sand and the narrow strip of blue ocean beyond it.
    “I just thought it would be nice. That’s all.”
    Hazel tipped back in her seat, torn between guilt and aggravation. The feeling that something had been said that couldn’t be reclaimed wouldn’t give her peace. Sadie was her sanctuary, her friend.
    Now, she seemed like a complete stranger who just happened to sit at Hazel’s table, occasionally grimacing at the taste of her iced tea.
     
    * * * *
     
    The front door opened with a ponderous clang.
    “Oh, you’re home,” Dylan gasped, surprised.
    Hazel turned. All the way at the other end of the loft, she might as well have been on another planet. She held up two soapy hands. “No shift tonight.” It was the truth, but somehow it still carried the flavor of a lie.
    “That’s right.” Dylan sighed. “Ward told me. Sorry, my head’s still at the office.” He rounded the kitchen island to slide both hands onto her hips.
    “Careful, I’m wet—”
    “I don’t mind.”
    The kiss he pressed to her lips was soft but by no means chaste. It was enough to have Hazel tipping into his arms, the dishes forgotten. She nearly whimpered when he pulled back.
    “Okay. Now I’m home,”