And just like that, we moved from weird and awkward into comfortable and friendly once again. I took a deep breath and relaxed back into the fun vibe I’d started the night with.
Why was I worried about Logan anyway? Jonahshoulddate somebody. He was too good to be left single. Why not Logan?
Except there was something about her I just didn’t like. And it had nothing to do with her job or the killer saleswoman I knew she could be.
It wasn’t even her looks. Although, I was tempted to ask her for contouring tutorials because her makeup was flawless.
No, it was something entirely different. Something deeper inside me. Something rotten and hollow-feeling in my gut. And if it was simple jealousy, I could have made sense of it. At the very least, I could have shoved it back into that buried box it belonged in.
But it wasn’t. At least not totally. Instead, it felt like something closer to grief. Closer to loss.
Closer to an upending sorrow that would last a lifetime.
Closer to inevitable. Because maybe it wasn’t Logan. And maybe it wouldn’t be for a while. But all of us would eventually get bitten by the same love bug that had found Will. This best-friend status wouldn’t be possible when we had significant others to spend our lives with. He would find someone. And she would replace me. And he wouldn’t remember our inside jokes and late nights of binging his shows and secret getaways to distilleries.
His life was all about me right now... but it wouldn’t always be. I thought back to his confession in my office weeks ago, his open envy over Will and Lola. That would be me someday soon. Pouring my heart out to Claire or Ada because Jonah finally found his perfect someone. I’d be the one left behind. I’d be the one bitter over unreturned text messages and canceled plans. I’d be the one wishing everything could just go back to the way it used to be.
He’d be the love-sick dope too wrapped up in his woman to notice he was letting something else slip away. He was lettingmeslip away.
And her? She’d be someone special. Because this was Jonah, and he deserved someone special. She’d be the girl who’d effortlessly keep his attention, not just now but forever. She’d be the woman I wanted to be when I grew up. Smart, funny, sassy. She’d keep him in line, and she’d make him laugh. She’d know all the great places to go out but still be able to cook for him when he wanted to stay in. She’d take her career seriously but also support his. She’d love his taste in music, his flip-flopped feet, and probably, even, The Witcher. They’d share something as special as Will and Lola had. Something as special as he deserved.
Something I would never know because Will was my brother, which meant Jonah could never be mine.
And that deep gash in the center of my heart? It had been created for that unavoidable day.
eleven
A couple of hours later,we’d hit our sample-sized cups of vodka cocktails limit. The room tilted to one side as I waited for Jonah to get the key to our room and directions to our glamp spot. I still didn’t know if you could call it a cabin? Or a tent? Or if we were sleeping in the freezing cold under the stars?
I tossed my last cup in the trash and readjusted my purse over my shoulder. A laugh settled in my chest, but I refused to let it out, knowing I would sound crazy. And drunk. But dang, we’d had a fun night. We’d tried every cocktail multiple times. We’d eaten until I’d had to resist popping open the top button of my jeans. I would so not be getting on a scale any time soon. And we’d laughed and laughed, sipped more cocktails, eaten more food, somehow avoiding all other people and salesmanandLogan. It had just been us. And it was the best night I could remember in a long time.
Jonah walked back toward me like he was concentrating very hard on being normal. The laugh finally escaped. By the time he made it to me, I had to lean on his shoulder. He caught me in his arms and laughed too.
“What?” he asked.
“You walking,” I explained, still laughing.
“What?”
I giggled again. “I don’t know. I thought it was funny how you were walking.”
“How was I walking?”
“I don’t know. Normal. It was funny.”
We were both still laughing. None of this made sense. “You’re crazy,” he murmured against my head, his lips tickling my hair.
I realized we were clutching each other, holding each other close. It was mostly for balance, yet there was comfort in the way his arms supported me. How his head gently leaned against mine.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I asked, resisting the urge to twine my arms around his neck and lay my head on his chest. The booze was catching up to me. I was getting sleepy.
He held up a paper map. “Yes. Kind of.”
I peered at it, trying to make sense of the blurry pastel markings. None of it made sense. “Lead the way then.”
But instead of leaving me to follow him, he grasped my hand, and we wandered side by side back to where the car was parked. We grabbed our overnight bags and my pillow—I never slept anywhere overnight without my favorite down pillow—and stumbled around until we found a lit path shooting off from the parking lot. And by found it, I meant we followed some other people who were a little less drunk than we were.
The night was crisp but clear. This far outside of the city, a million stars twinkled overhead. The milky moon was full, illuminating the path and the landscape.
