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“Isn’t there already a show with that name?”
Courtney makes a noise of derision. “That’s what I said.”
“No, ours has a space in between it. Because our last name is Nash.”
“But you don’t live in Nashville. Aren’t your brothers here in New York too?”
Courtney raises her brows at her husband as if she’s made this same argument, until he finally grumbles, “Fine. I’ll talk to the producers about it.”
“Anyway,” Courtney picks up, “we’re filming now and would love to have you over for a dinner party. We can plug your app too during the segment.”
Dad definitely wouldn’t say no to free publicity for ThousandWords. Plus, Serena and I need people to notice us doing things as a couple. But the thought of spending a night listening to Harlan Nash talk about himself is up there with gouging my eyes out. “We’ll think about it.”
Serena sinks down in her seat even further, hunching her shoulders forward as she takes a bite of her food.
She doesn’t utter a word as lunch continues on, and when Harlan and Courtney excuse themselves briefly to speak to another couple who just walked in, I gently nudge her.
“Hmm?” She glances at me, a question on her face.
“What’s wrong?”
She blinks, appearing startled. “Nothing, why?”
“You’re not talking.”
“I… I don’t know them.”
“I thought you knew Courtney.”
She rolls her eyes. “From ten years ago. And it’s not like she was nice to me back then.”
Why would anyone be unkind to her? “What do you mean?”
Picking at her food, she takes a moment before answering. “You don’t remember me from high school, do you?”
Am I supposed to? “I don’t,” I admit. “But the story you made up was a nice touch.”
“I didn’t make it up.” She keeps her head down, staring at her plate, nearly empty since she’s had time to eat rather than attend to Harlan’s questions.
Wait. That actually happened?
“It’s okay if you don’t remember. I was pretty forgettable.” Her gaze meets mine briefly before it darts away. “Courtney and her friends came up with this nickname for me. Ice Queen.”
Gabriel mentioned something about that at his bachelor party.
“Like I thought I was too good for everyone,” she continues. “But I was just shy. I kept to myself and I guess they took it as rude. And then after that name stuck, it was even harder to make friends.”
She sets her fork down, curling her hands together in her lap. “Anyway, that time you helped me up was the nicest thing anyone did for me at Redmond Prep. I really did never forget it.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out, the silence between us stretching.
“You probably have to get back to work, right?” She stands, her chair scraping against the floor loudly. “I’ll take a cab home.”
I nod, still unsure what to say, and watch as she strides out, clutching her purse tightly to her, her head tilted down.
What just happened?
“Shit.”