“Oh, Ciara…”
“I just… I can’t be here anymore. I need space from him, from all of it.”
“Of course. I’ll be there. Just tell me when to pick you up.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry, I know it’s late?—”
“Shut up. You don’t apologize to me for needing help. This is the moment our friendship has been leading up to.”
“What moment?”
“The moment where I drive the getaway car as we escape your emotionally constipated husband.”
Despite the gut-wrenching pain in my chest, I manage to smile. “You always know how to cheer me up.”
“Speaking of cheering you up, do you want to hear how I locked myself out of my apartment in my underwear?”
I blink. “Youwhat?”
“Oh, yeah, and I’m not talking about a cute Victoria Secret matching set either.”
“Oh, no…”
“Let me set the scene. Faded striped boy shorts, ripped college tee, and Christmas socks.”
“Mila.” I cover my mouth to stifle a giggle.
“I was just going to grab my food delivery from the hallway and thenbam! The door slams shut, and I’m locked out with no phone and no keys.”
I laugh as the image forms of Mila standing in her hallway, carrying a bag of takeout while wearing nothing but her ugly underwear.
“Please tell me you didn’t have to call the fire department.”
She groans. “Worse. I had to knock on my hot neighbor’s door.”
“Oh,no!”
“Uh huh, it was mortifying. But that’s still not the worst part.”
“How does it get worse?”
“Not only is he married, he’sgay. The universe clearly hates me.”
“It really does.” I chuckle.
When our laughter finally fades and the silence sets in, the kind only best friends can share without it feeling awkward, Mila lets out a long breath.
“You’re going to be okay. Whatever is going on with you and Ronan… You can survive it, Ciara. You’ve survived a hell of a lot worse.”
“I know.” I wrap an arm around myself.
“Do you want to tell me what happened? You don’t have to, but sometimes, it helps to talk through it.”
I take a deep breath before filling her in on everything, from the way Ronan helped calm me on the flight, to the moment we shared in the hotel room, to the disaster of a dinner date.
“I just don’t get it. Why does he push me away like that? Why can’t he always be the guy on the plane? The one who is sweet and caring and…”
And acts like he loves me.
