“And how exactly would I know that, Naomi?When did you ever tell me?When exactly was I supposed to figure that out?When you were texting your ‘mystery guy’?When we used to window shop for designer clothes and you pretended you’d never owned some of those brands?”Megan’s voice hardens.“Or was it when you stood by and said nothing while your father held me captive?”
I sigh in exhaustion.This conversation is going in circles.Maybe this was a mistake.
“I misspoke,” I admit.“What I meant to say is… I hope you’ll take into account that I come from a complicated family.And I need some grace here.”
“Grace?”She lets out a short, bitter laugh.
“Sometimes, people do better once they know better,” I continue.“And I won’t sit idly by and allow my father to hurt you again.”
“That’s a strong promise,” she says carefully.
“I mean it.”
“Forgive me if I don’t exactly trust your word these days.”
I let out a slow breath.“I know.I don’t blame you for that.But I have an ally now—Gabriel.”
“Oh, so now you’re using your brand-new mafia husband as proof that I should trust you?”
“He’s not just my husband,” I tell her.“He knows how much I’ve missed our friendship, and he encouraged me to try again with you.”
That stops her for a moment.
“What’s in it for him?”she asks skeptically.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“He sees the toll my father has taken on me.He knows how much I regret what happened between us.”
“Does he also know that you stood by while your father held me hostage?”
Her words cut me like a rusty kitchen knife.
“I think about that moment every single day,” I whisper.She has no clue how much I wish I could go back in time and do things differently.
I clear my throat, shifting gears.“Gabriel wants me to be stronger, Megan.He wants me to stop being my father’s puppet.”
“That’s great,” she says, flat and emotionless.“Do that.But it doesn’t mean we can just go back to how things were.”
“I’m not expecting that.”
“Good.”
“But I’d like for us to try.I’d love to meet your son.”
A silence stretches between us.
“You once told me that I was the only friend you ever had,” I continue softly.“That we were like sisters.”
“I have to go,” she says, her voice devoid of the warmth I’d come to depend on during our friendship.
“Megan, please?—”
“No.”She cuts me off, exhaling sharply.“You want grace?Work for it.You want forgiveness?Earn it.”
Well, damn.
