But Beatrice was never “volatile” before she hooked up with Kai. She was fun, high-energy, creative, and passionate, but rarely angry and never mean. My parents seem to think that becoming a professional artist changed Bea. I think it’s him, and I will never forgive him for it.
I stack the last pancake on the tower, which is now genuinely absurd. Eighteen pancakes. Even considering I plan to eat leftovers all week, it’s excessive.
I’ve been cooking for at least forty minutes. The smell is everywhere—saturating the kitchen, drifting into the living room, probably seeping under Bea’s door. The whole apartment smells like a diner on a Sunday morning.
But the guest room is still locked tight.
The apartment is silent.
My chest tightens.
Something’s wrong with her, I can just…feel it.
Last night, she was too upbeat. Too breezy. That manic smile, the way she couldn’t hold my gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, the speed with which she insisted on heading to bed, even when I offered to make whiskey sours with extra cherries.
And something was off about her breakup story. The whole “knew they weren’t going to end up happily ever after” part was especially eyebrow-raising. Maybe Bea didn’t think they’d end “happily”—they’ve always been too tortured together for that—but she seemed committed to going the distance with Kai. She’s called him her soulmate on more than one occasion.
My gut is screaming that there’s more to this.
It’s like that feeling when someone’s about to blindside me on the ice, a tingle along the hairline and between the shoulders. If I pay attention, I might have enough time to get Bea out of the line of fire.
Ignore it, and…
Well, I don’t know what happens then. And I won’t know until I pin Bea down in the hard light of day and big-brother the truth out of her. We aren’t as close as we were as kids or teens, but I’m still the one Bea comes to for advice. She still trusts that I have her best interests at heart.
A notification makes me flinch. I look over, to see a text from Charlotte—Hope you guys are having a good morning. Tell Bea it was nice meeting her last night.
Sighing, I type back—Thanks. I will. As soon as she wakes up…
Charlotte: Were you two up late catching up?
Nix: No, actually. She went to sleep five minutes after you left. I’m starting to get a little worried.
Charlotte: She’s probably just tired from her trip. And all the emotional upheaval. Breakups are exhausting.
Nix: Yeah, you’re probably right.
Charlotte: I’m almost always right. Unfortunately.
Nix: Why unfortunately?
Charlotte: It’s hard to feel like you deserve sympathy when you saw the betrayal coming a mile away. I’ve been thinking about all the time I wasted with Teddy lately. By the time we were in deep, I couldn’t see the forest for the trees, but for the first year or so, I knew I was making a mistake. I knew we would never work long term. But I was so tired of being alone, I just kept…talking myself out of what I knew to be true. How dumb is that?
Nix: That’s not dumb. That’s just being human. Being alone is hard sometimes.
Charlotte: Realizing you’ve flushed away years of your life when you knew better is harder. What an asshole I am.
Nix: Why are you being mean to Charlotte this morning? Stop being mean to Charlotte. She’s my friend.
Charlotte: LOL. Well, thanks. She’s lucky to have such a nice, supportive friend.
Nix: Am I still nice and supportive if I’m thinking about how hot you looked half-naked on my island last night?
Charlotte: Yes, you are. But you shouldn’t be thinking about that. Or me. You should go bring Beatrice a coffee. Getting out of bed post-breakup is always easier with caffeine.
Nix: Good idea. I’ll go ask her if she wants a coffee. She gave up caffeine for a little while, but I think she’s given up on giving up since then.
Charlotte: I hope so. For her sake. A life without caffeine is not a life I want to imagine. With that in mind, I’ll go make another pot of French Roast and catch up with you soon. Have a good weekend!
