“Bullshit!” Tina yelled on the other end of the line. “I was coming to get her on a snowmobile, but the streetlights have gone out and it’s pitch black out here. I’mstranded! I need you to come and get me.”
“What the hell?” I mouthed.
“I don’t have a way to get to you, nor do I have any idea where you are. Call 9-1-1.”
“No!” she yelled. “You’re responsible for me being out here,youcome and get me.”
“How the hell am I responsible?” Brevin was clearly exasperated.
“If you hadn’t ‘rescued’ Chevonne”—I could practically hear the air quotes around the word rescued—“I wouldn’t be out here.”
“So what should I have done? Left her there to die of hypothermia?”
“She’d be better off dead than to be with you,” my best friend said. At this point, “best friend” deserved the air quotes the most. It was all I could do to stop myself from saying something to her. But I knew it was no use. Even if I told her I was listening, she’d gaslight me and tell me I took it out of context because she’s lost in the snow and panicked. And then I’d have to welcome her to the club, and honestly, I’ve had enough. This breakup had been a long time coming, and the clock had finally wound down.
“Put Chevonne on the phone. Now!”
I shook my head quickly.
“No,” Brevin said. “She’ll talk to you tomorrow, when she’s feeling better.” He looked at me and smiled uncertainly and I’d never been more appreciative of anyone than I was of him in that moment.
“If I’m dead of hypothermia tomorrow and I never talk to my best friend again, my blood is on your hands,” Tina growled into the phone.
That set me back. What if she did die out there and I did nothing to help her? I was about to reach for the receiver when I heard it. Tina’s little dog barking like someone had knocked on the door. Tina’s front door. There was no way she would have taken that tiny dog out in a snowstorm.
“I’ve got—” Her voice was cut off there as though her line went dead. Or she cut the call herself and she was hoping Brevin wouldn’t hear what was obvious at least to me.
He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it before his gaze landed on me. “Was that …”
“Her dog? Yeah. She’s not out on a snowmobile, she’s at home.” I let out a sigh and slumped against the table.
“She’s really a piece of work,” Brevin said. “Sorry. I know she’s your best friend and all, but?—”
“She’s not my best friend. Not anymore. This is definitely the last straw.” Just saying it lifted a weight off my shoulders.
Probably sensing that I wasn’t ready for any other life-changing activities like kissing, Brevin suggested we eat. While he put the grilled cheese in the frying pan, I cut Princess’s steak up and put it on the floor. She made very short work of it. Brevin gave her a slice of cheese for dessert before he put it away.
Tina never liked Princess, and the feeling was mutual. Not that my dog would ever threaten her, but she never went to Tina, and my best friend would never have taken care of my pet. In fact, the one time I’d stayed in the hospital for a procedure, I had to ask my neighbor to look after her. Tina’s excuse was that shehad to visit my bedside. Which she did for all of fifteen minutes because she couldn’t stand the antiseptic smell. And the fact that she had a dog of her own at home that could take care of itself well enough while Tina was out meant Princess would have been okay too. But whatever. I saw it now.
Why I’d never really scrutinized our relationship before to get to this point I might never figure out. But now, I knew I could never go back to hanging out with her. Everything had changed. She’d sabotaged what could have been something beautiful and lasting when she threatened Brevin. I never would have spat in his face, and Tina knew that. Yes, I’d been disappointed, but I’d never been vindictive.
As of tonight, I had hope that I had a new friend in Brevin.
I watched him take the grilled cheese sandwiches out of the pan. He plated them and placed them uncut on the table in front of me along with a knife.
“If you’d like to cut them, I’ll take Princess out,” he said, avoiding my gaze suspiciously. Apparently we had the same idea.
“Oh, no. No way. You cut them,” I demanded.
A smile spread across his face. “Are you testing me?”
“Were you testing me?” I countered.
“Mmmaybe a little?”
I thought about it for a moment, then teased, “I think you should cut them since I’m the injured party today. In more ways than one. It’s too much for me to handle.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that,” he said with a wry smile. “But if I do it wrong, will you forgive me?”
