“It’s the same old story with you, isn’t Leah?” Meghan pushes the tissue box across the table.
Leah blows her nose noisily. “What is?”
“You meet some hot guy, you go out for dinner or to a show or two. You hold hands and watch the sunset. Then you lose your head. You think he’s It.”
“Garrett was different.” Leah watches Meghan refill their wineglasses.
“No he wasn’t. He was exactly like all the others—inferior to you in every way but one.”
“He didn’t know a good thing when she stood right in front of him.”
Leah sips her Merlot before it spills from the overfull glass. Her fingernails are rimmed with dirt. She needs a manicure.
Meghan looks out at the garden, at the freshly-dug flowerbed. “Let’s go through your Prince Charming list again: Zac, Casey, Blake—”
“I get it!”
“Do you? Or are you going to try to persuade me that you should keep Garrett around, just in case he finally realizes all that you had to offer?”
Leah looks over at the sofa where Garrett has been lying unconscious for the past few hours.
“If you have any doubts, just remember what it felt like when he showed up at the party last night with that other girl.”
The memory of her humiliation flushes Leah’s face to bright red. She stands up and stretches. “Let’s load him into the back of the pickup. Where will we dump him?”
“Down the old logging road should be far enough. It’ll take him a full day to walk back from there.”
Photo from Wikimedia Commons: a logging road in the Copper Canyon area of Vancouver Island, BC by David Stanley