Except for nights like tonight, when she had a particularly full glass of wine on the table in front of her, and she was curled up in one of the aforementioned leather chairs with a thick blanket wrapped around her legs and a bowl of popcorn mixed with M&M’s on her lap, the TV playing a cheesy romcom that neither she nor Berkley were actually paying any attention to.
“You nervous for tomorrow?” Berkley asked her.
“Of course I am,” Lexie said honestly. “I’ve been thinking of ways to get out of it ever since I agreed to go.”
“Lexie…” Berkley started, but Lexie held up her hand to silence her.
“I know I need to go,” she said. “I need to see him with my own two eyes, if only to confirm he’s okay. I don’t expect anything from him. The way we left things…it wasn’t great. And it fucked me up for a while. But I’m better now. Aren’t I?”
Lexie met Berkley’s gaze, and her friend shrugged. “I can’t answer that for you,” Berkley said.
“I feel better,” Lexie said.
“I consider it a win that you’re no longer drinking your meals, honestly,” Berkley said with a giggle.
Lexie threw a piece of popcorn at her and sighed. “It was touch and go there for a while, wasn’t it?”
Berkley nodded solemnly. “I was really worried about you those first few months. You were walking around like a zombie. The only time you showed any of your old spark was when you’d get drunk and hook up with those random guys.”
Lexie wanted to argue, but Berkley was right. The number of men Lexie had left in her wake in the first few weeks and months after Mitch left wasn’t an amount she was particularly proud of. But after their fight, and his trade, she went numb. And she was so desperate to feel something, anything, that she drank herself stupid five nights out of seven and slept with someone new nearly as frequently.
One night the previous June, after the Warriors had been knocked out of the playoffs, Brent and Berkley hosted their official housewarming party. It may have been six months after they moved in, but between hockey season and Berkley’s work schedule, the couple had no free time before then to even think about throwing a party.
That night, Lexie once again attempted to drown her sorrows in tequila and a meaningless hookup. A couple of Brent’s teammates had been looking particularly delicious, and she was about to make her move across the back patio toward one when an arm clamped down on her wrist and towed her inside.
Brent dragged her through the kitchen and living room before bringing her upstairs and depositing her on the bed in one of the guest rooms.
Her head was spinning from how quickly Brent had moved her from the backyard to this bedroom—the tequila hadn’t helped matters—but the fog cleared enough for her to find herself face to face with Brent, Berkley, and Amelia.
“What the fuck is this?” She slurred, clumsily gesturing between the three of them. “Some sort of intervention?”
“That’s exactly what this is,” Berkley said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring down her nose at Lexie.
“Why?”
“Because we can’t keep watching you drink and whore yourself out like this,” Amelia said.
Lexie scoffed. “Don’t call me a whore. That’s not nice.”
“Lexie,” Berkley said, kneeling in front of her to look her in the eyes. “This is serious. You’re hurting, we get that. But you’re also hurting the rest of us by acting like this. You need to get your shit together.”
Lexie glanced up to find tears lining Berkley’s lashes.
Her best friend was crying.
Because of her.
What the fuck was wrong with her? It was one thing to have a good time, drink casually, and screw around when she felt like it. But since Mitch had left, she’d made an Olympic sport out of getting drunk and fucking.
Up to that point, Lexie hadn’t felt like she was doing anything wrong, or that anyone cared one way or the other.
Clearly, she’d been mistaken if even Brent was standing in this room with her, the man who loved her best friend deeply but also loved—and had been left by—his own best friend.
Only when Lexie pulled Berkley in for a hug and buried her face in her neck, whispering, “I’m sorry,” over and over did she realize she’d been crying herself.
Now, Berkley reached out and grabbed her hand. Lexie gave her a watery smile and said, “I’m sorry I put you guys through that.”
Berkley shrugged and squeezed her fingers. “It’s okay. It’s no different than you throwing me in a shower fully clothed.”
