“Wh-what are you doing?” She sits straight up and brushes her wrists over her eyes. “Why are we stopping?”
“You tell me.” I swerve into a McDonald’s parking space and twist in my seat so I can see her fully. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why?”
“Because out of everyone, you’re the last person I want to talk to.”
Normally, I would take the hint and walk away. This one doesn’t want anything to do with me. But I know her... or used to know her. There has to be a reason for the change. For the walls she has erected between us. Des blames it on the alcohol, but why would she still be like this even after being sober for almost two years? The question is killing me.
What have I done to be cut out of her life?
“Why?” I whisper.
Her head jerks toward me. “Besides you yelling at me? Or how I seem to lose control whenever you’re around?”
I hold her stare, watching different emotions cross her face: anger, confusion, disappointment, finally ending with sadness.
“Sometimes it’s like all I do is mess up. Even sober, I ruin everything.”
My chest pinches, knowing that some of that frustration she’s feeling came from me.
“That’s not true,” I whisper.
“Isn’t it? Maya had this wonderful day planned, and we spent most of it focused on me and my drama. It’s like a neon arrow flashing above my head screaming ‘recovering alcoholic’ at all times. Is it too much to ask to be normal again?”
“It isn’t.” I rub the back of my neck. “To be honest, I didn’t know you felt this way.”
“It’s not something I’m broadcasting around town, you know?” Reese sucks in a long breath and releases it slowly. “Can we not tell Des that we talked about it? He tends to be overprotective, and this is the last thing I want him to worry about.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“Do you want to talk about it with me?”
“No, I don’t want to argue anymore.”
“I won’t.”
She says nothing, blindly staring out the window.
“How about a truce? No more arguing until after the wedding.”
“What are we? Ten years old?”
“Sounds like you know you won’t make it.”
Her head whips toward me. “Okay, fine. I’ll bite. What happens if one of us breaks it?”
“You have to announce to everyone at the reception how amazing I am.”
“Wait, how is that a win for me?”
“Because I’m not going to lose.”
“Pfft. If you break it—because let’s be honest, you will—you have to tell everyone at the wedding how you’re wrong and I am right.”
