Three
“That’s your Evan?” Cassie exclaimed.
“Well,” I said diplomatically, not looking up from stirring every last sugar crystal into my tea, “not anymore.”
“Don’t be obtuse. You know what I mean.”
I sighed over my plate.
“Yes, unfortunately I do.”
Cassie chugged the remains of her triple shot café Americano. I set my teaspoon on a napkin and lifted the sweet tea to my lips. I could almost hear the gears creaking into motion in her mind.
“Didn’t David—”
“Yes,” I preempted.
“Oh.” She removed the lid and licked the watered-down droplets of coffee. “And wasn’t Jon—”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Grabbing my teaspoon off the table, she swirled it around the bottom of her cup, scooping up the last half-ounce sitting in the crease. “And Tad—”
“Yes!” I plunked my glass on the table with a resounding c
