Tears well in my eyes, and I blink them back. “I never wanted my endo. I mean, who would? But I didn’t have a choice, and it has to come with me in whatever relationship I have. How can I justify that? And who the hell would want to take that on? It’s better for everyone if I keep my hopes low and not try.”
Maria freezes, hands on hips. “Evelina Rose O’Shea,” she says in her sternest voice possible. Which is not stern. Not at all. “You can’t possibly believe that.”
“It’s the truth.” I shrug. Am I maybe dipping into my self-loathing part of the month? It’s possible—actually, it’s definitely that—but still, when I’m here, these thoughts feel as natural as two plus two equals four, even if I try to tell myself they’ll pass and I’ll secretly like myself again eventually.
“Oh no. No. No. No,” Maria sputters, shaking her head and marching away. “No!” She pauses again, tossing her hands in the air in frustration—but sure, I’m the melodramatic one—before turning back to me. “Evie, seriously, you’re gorgeous, brilliant, funny—sure, sometimes I don’t get your jokes, but hey, you try! You love your people fiercely, and you’re one of the toughest, strongest women I’ve ever met—who has a shitty thing and handles it with so many of the adverbs I know you don’t like me using. But dammit, I’m going to because you are. You are strong and handle this with so much grace every day. I thought you didn’t want to get hurt—but this—nope, consider this me putting my foot down.”
I snort. “I don’t think you can categorize anything I’ve done in the past week as graceful.”
“It’s true, though! And anyone you choose to give your love to will be the luckiest person alive. Understood?”
“Uhm, yeah,” I say, blinking back tears as Maria’s compliment overwhelms me in the feels. Her words blossom in my chest, emphasizing how hollow I’d let my cavity become.
Clearing my throat, I force out a tiny, “How are you and Declan doing?” Buying myself time to process something,everything.
A glow sinks deep into Maria’s pink cheeks right on schedule. As much as her romantic tendencies irk me, a large portion of me envies her ability to give her heart over entirely to whomever she’s with. Even if it ended in messy nights with ice cream and running mascara in the past, she’s always risen from the ashes stronger.
An uncharacteristic swallow and deep breath from Maria forces a quirked brow on my end.
The swallow, deep breath is never a good sign.
This is having to tell a destination wedding bride you can’t legally get married in Paris as a visitor territory.
“We’re good, actually. I wanted to talk to you about something.” She drags another large gulp of air through her lungs. “But maybe right now isn’t the right time.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, begging for something else to hyper-focus on.
“He—uhm—he asked me to move in with him.”
“Oh?” My hand twitches as we pass another couple kissing on the edge of the Seine. Stupid, stupid love. I knew this was coming. But yeah, this is a gut punch for me.
Maria’s my platonic soulmate. It’s like she’s breaking up with me but saying we should still be friends.
“And I know it would leave you hanging with rent and your shop. So I told him we’d need to wait. Let you get settled.”
Hah. Settled. Getting settled is a lifetime away for me, if ever. I can’t do that to them. She can’t wait for me.
“You do you, don’t worry about me. I’ll land on both feet. Always do,” I say, climbing the stairs near Pont Neuf. Back on the sidewalk, the noises of the city crash over us. “As long as you make time for your old spinster here.” Wrapping my arm around Maria, I lean in and kiss her cheek. “I will be happy for you and support your decision, whatever you choose.”
“We’ll see. It won’t be immediate anyway.” She huddles tighter as we cross the road, traveling under a decorated archway that leads to a narrow alley and The Quays. “And as long as my old spinster friend is happy with her situation because I’m fairly certain there’s a man moonstruck in love with her if she wanted it.”
I shake my head, biting down the upward curl of my lips. She couldn’t be more off.
“Are you at least looking forward to the wedding now?”
“Not really.” An illuminated Guinness sign hovers overhead as an Irish flag flaps in the wind in front of the pub. “I’m hoping Caroline will stay quiet about certain things now, but you know me, stress and self-advocating are my downfalls.”
“A little romance might help lighten the mood.” Maria waggles a brow at me, reaching for the door and opening it.
My face falls flat as I go in. “You’re not the funny one, dear.”
“Hey, wicked harsh!” Maria mocks back and follows me in.
Declan greets her the minute we enter. His grim expression melts, meeting her softer one.
“You think I’m funny, right?” She frowns and buries herself into the arms of the six-foot Irish man.
His gaze darts to mine, a slight panic flashing through his usually stoic slate gray eyes.
