I grabbed two forks from the kitchen and we collapsed onto the couch together, the brownie container between us.
“Okay,” Abby said, taking a bite and closing her eyes in appreciation. “Start from the beginning. What happened?”
I told her everything.
She fanned her face. “Damn.”
“Stop. You’re making it worse.”
Abby took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Sounds to me like you’re falling in love.”
“I already fell. I’m past the falling part. I’m in the ‘lying on the ground wondering how I got here’ part.”
She grimaced. “Are you sure he doesn’t like you, too?”
“Abby, we’re not twelve. Like and love are two different things. I can’t be inlikewith someone. I can’t have all these feelings for a man just to have himlikeme in return.”
“So, do you plan on shutting those feelings off?”
I took another bite of the most decadent brownie I ever had. “I’m just going to suffer in silence. I’m in love with a man who’s attracted to me but doesn’t want a relationship.”
“Stop that. Stop finding reasons to doubt this.” She pointed her fork at me. “You moved to New York to find love, remember? Maybe you found it. Maybe it’s messy and complicated and completely inappropriate, but maybe that’s okay. True love doesn’t fit in a neat little heart-shaped box like one of those gifts you’ve been giving.”
I took another bite of brownie, letting the chocolate melt on my tongue. “What if it ends badly? What if blows up and I have to quit and find a new job?”
“What if it doesn’t end badly? What if you two figure it out and end up happy?”
“Bah. That seems statistically unlikely.”
“True love doesn’t care about statistics, either.” Abby grinned. “Although you did meet at a dating app company, so maybe statistics are involved. I don’t know. The point is, you’ll never know if you don’t try.”
We ate brownies in silence for a few minutes. I felt some of the tension in my shoulders start to ease. The power of good dessert couldn’t be overstated.
“When you guys get married and you’re rich, promise you won’t forget about me.”
I scoffed around my brownie. “I would never forget your name, Tabby.”
She gasped. “You bitch.”
We laughed.
“I’m just saying, when you’re Mrs. Billionaire CEO, buying Gucci bags and Hermès scarves, remember your girl who was there when you were desperate for a roomie. The girl who brought you day old brownies.”
“I’m still waiting on that bread,” I said, grinning. “Being my black market bread dealer would make you pretty unforgettable.”
“I can arrange something,” she said, rolling her eyes and chuckling. “But I’m serious. I want front row seats to your fancy charity galas. And maybe a Birkin bag for my birthday. Just one. I’m not greedy.”
“You want a Birkin bag?” I grinned and shook my head.
“Listen, if my best friend is going to marry a billionaire, I’m going to need some perks. It’s only fair.” She was grinning now. “Although honestly, I’d settle for not having to use your health insurance fraudulently anymore.”
“We’re not getting married.”
“Not yet. But give it time.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “He’s completely gone for you, Ina. I saw it when he took you to dinner at the restaurant. I saw it when he kissed you on our doorstep. And I’m betting if I’d been there today, I would have seen it in the way he looked at you before you made out in his office.”
I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t believe I made out with my boss in his office.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said.
