Matty turned the cellphone toward Bill and held it inches from his face.
"This is Randy?"
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Bill smiled sheepishly.
"Yea."
Matty tossed the cellphone on the bed.
"No wonder you never told me about Randy."
"Actually I did," Bill defended himself.
"On several occasions."
"Really?" Matty snapped back, hands on her hips.
"Why don't I recall that?"
Bill shrugged.
"I think I would recall you telling me about some gorgeous redhead, that you were friends with."
"I wouldn't say Randy is gorgeous," Bill whispered.
"So? Just how fucking close were you and this Randy?"
"We would do things together, once in a while. Go to a concert or hockey game."
Matty suddenly remembered conversations her and Bill had, when they first got together.
"Wait a minute. Wait just one fucking minute."
Her eyes opened wide.
"Please tell me this Randy is not the buddy you told me about, that you used to get drunk with and crash at each other's places?
The buddy you said was your best friend in the world?
The buddy you were closer to than anyone?"
Bill took a deep breath.
"Maybe?"
Matty wanted to scream, but she held it in. She turned quickly and walked to the table, in the suite, where the wine was.
"Matty, I ..."
Matty spun around, pointing her finger at Bill.
"You don't talk yet."
She stared at Bill's naked body.
"And put some clothes on."
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Tuckamore Bay
Ficción GeneralMatty Dove had 18 months to try and find a buyer for her late grandmother's lighthouse. A buyer who, she hoped, would not only buy the lighthouse, but love the village so much that they would invest time and money into saving the community. In 18 mo...
