Trinity Falls by Regina Hart

rising beneath her honey brown skin said she did.
    Their server arrived to take their drink orders. She appeared young enough to be carded, but must have been a student at Trinity Falls University. Everyone ordered iced tea, except Ramona, who wanted white wine.
    Ramona leaned back into her seat. She looked from Quincy, who was diagonally across the table from her, to Megan on her left. “Are you two dating?” The question was tinged with sarcasm.
    Ean stilled. He needed to hear the answer. But wouldn’t Quincy have said something to him? Wouldn’t Megan have mentioned it Thursday night?
    â€œAre you and Ean dating?” Quincy’s response didn’t relieve Ean’s worry.
    But why was Ean concerned over whether one of his best friends was dating his ex-girlfriend’s cousin? He wasn’t concerned. He was jealous.
    Ramona held Ean’s gaze. A secretive smile curved her lips as she answered Quincy’s question. “I don’t know whether or not we’re dating again. It depends on whether I can convince Ean to return to New York with me.”
    Ean wasn’t playing this game. “That’s not going to happen, Ramona.”
    Quincy shrugged. His response was swift and satisfied. “It sounds like you have your answer. You’re not dating.”
    Ean frowned at his friend. In high school, Quincy had barely spoken two words to Ramona. That had been bad enough. But now his friend wouldn’t stop attacking her. Why?
    â€œAre you really staying in Trinity Falls?” Megan’s question redirected the tension.
    Ean met her gaze. “I wouldn’t have come back if I didn’t intend to stay.”
    He wasn’t dating Ramona and he was staying in Trinity Falls. What did Megan think about these things?
    Their server delivered their drinks, then offered to take their orders. Ean and Quincy ordered the steak. Megan requested the chicken Parmesan. Apparently, she wasn’t opposed to eating the same thing several nights a week.
    Then the young woman asked for Ramona’s order.
    Ramona glared at the menu. “Did you get this salmon fresh?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” The young woman stood with her pen poised above her notepad.
    â€œHow fresh?” Ramona’s questions snapped out with a speed and ferocity that would catapult a criminal prosecutor to fame.
    â€œI—I’m certain it’s fresh, ma’am.” The server seemed taken aback by the cross-examination.
    Ean studied Ramona, her tense posture, her strident voice, her lack of eye contact with the server. Had she been this arrogant in high school?
    â€œYou don’t sound certain.” Ramona’s eyes remained glued to the menu.
    Megan turned to her cousin. “Ramona.”
    â€œWhat?” Ramona snapped the word. “Why are you always whispering my name? That’s so annoying.”
    â€œStop it. You’re making a scene.” Megan spoke through clenched teeth.
    Ramona rolled her eyes, then addressed their server. “Are you certain the salmon is fresh—”
    Ean interrupted the exchange. “Ramona, she answered your question.”
    The server’s pen began to shake above the notepad. “We get all of our seafood fresh, ma’am.”
    â€œStop calling me ‘ma’am.’”
    The young woman’s eyes grew large. “Yes, m . . . yes.”
    Quincy’s sigh was long and loud. “Mona, do you want the fish or not? If you want it, for the love of God, order it or I’ll order something for you.”
    Ean sat back in his chair. No one had ever spoken to Ramona that way in her life. Of that, he was certain. Even Megan did a slow blink at Quincy’s outburst. He prepared himself for the fireworks.
    Ramona erupted like Vesuvius. “My name isn’t ‘Mona.’ Don’t—”
    â€œPeople are starving in Third World countries while—”
    â€œâ€”call me