Ginny slammed the fridge door. “I’m done. You’re blind when it comes to Preston. Always have been. Always will be I guess.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter as she squeezed past me.
“One more thing, Twyla. Just do me a favor and be careful around him. At least check out his story. See if Marjorie even exists.”
My mouth twisted like I was drinking lemon juice, and I blurt, “Maybe I should check you out? See if you’re who you claim to be?”
“You’re impossible!” Ginny’s last words before she slammed my front door.
No. She was the impossible one. Just how did she think I would accept her theory? Was I supposed to be overjoyed by the possibility that Preston—my ride-or-die best friend—might be lying to me?
Ginny finding unreasonable fault in Preston is unacceptable. He’s the man I’ve stood by since the first time I witnessed bullies kicking his ass outside our school. He’s the man who stood by me when my first crush broke my heart. He’s the man who held me and allowed my tears to flow unabated when my parents died. Preston doesn’t lie to me. Never has. Never will.
This has to be about Ginny, and her insane dislike of him. The two of them hated each other at first sight. Hell, it’s something they both admitted tonight. Mama Delle once told me that sometimes people protest loudly against something when they’re drawn to it. Maybe Ginny’s the one with impure intentions? I shake my head. Ginny and Preston as a couple is ridiculous, but maybe…just maybe it’s not as farfetched as I would like to think.
Sliding the empty plate into the dishwasher, I notice the clean kitchen courtesy of Ginny. She knows I would have left everything piled up. I can’t stay mad at her. Turning on the appliance, I decide to contact her tomorrow. I flick off the light and get ready for bed.
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