“It’s all because of a stupid dare.”
I pause. “What?”
“That you ended up with him and not with…” I turn to look into his deep blue eyes, already seeing the answer swirling there in the way he looks at me.
He rubs the back of his neck, eyes not meeting mine. “That night you met. I dared Owen to ask for your number before you left. Thinking you’d turn him down and we would date, and I could avoid an awkward love triangle with my new roommate.”
I stare at him, heart thudding.
“Owen told me to dare him to do it, and that’s when I knew he had already fallen for the same girl I’d fallen for weeks ago. I thought there was no harm in it. Figured he’d chicken out orbomb or something and then there would be no hard feelings when I asked you out.” He exhales, a wistful kind of smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “But he didn’t.”
I feel the air go out of my lungs.
“He got you talking about art, made some cheesy joke. And you laughed, and then that was it. It was pure chemistry.” Noah finally meets my eyes. “You two were perfect together. And I never blamed him for that.”
I don’t know what to say.
“Noah…”
“I watched him fall in love with you. And I tried to fall out of love with you while he fell harder.”
The words split something in my chest.
“I never told him. But he figured it out. He could see it every time I looked at you. I never toldyou. Because he was my best friend and you were his, and I would’ve rather cut off my own hand than hurt either of you.”
Silence swells between us, aching and terrible.
“I thought maybe, after all these years… maybe this was something. But now it’s your song playing, one that’s seared into my brain too, and you’re looking at me like I’m a mistake. And I feel like a mistake. Like all these years of wanting you were wrong, and maybe some part of me wondered what it would be like if Owen was out of the picture, and now he is and I hate myself all over again for it.”
“I didn’t mean?—”
“I know.” He smiles, soft and devastating. “You’re grieving. And I’m not trying to take his place. I couldn’t. But I can’t pretend I don’t feel what I feel.”
I cover my mouth with my hand, holding back a sob.
He shakes his head gently. “I never fully got over you, B. Not even when I tried to.”
And then, just like that, he turns and walks back toward the house.
I stand there shaking, still clutching a plastic cup of chardonnay, the sound of Owen and my song dissolving into the night.
The thoughts swirl in my head, making my stomach clench. Was I really that blind all these years? How could I not have seen this?
This isn’t only grief.
This is love, too.
And I have no idea what to do with both.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I hold it together until the party is over, until every last neighbor and friend has either claimed their casserole dish or offered me a gentle squeeze and warm smile.
“Great party, Birdie!” One of Owen’s old colleagues beams. “I know your parties are notoriously perfect, from the color-coordinated napkins to the hand-calligraphed menu cards, and I’ve enjoyed every last one of them. But this, well, this was by far the best one.”
I smile, resisting the urge to tell her that four-years-ago Birdie would’ve broken out in hives. Nothing matched. Nothing was coordinated. It was a riot of colors, clashing themes, and a playlist that swung wildly between Sinatra and Lizzo like it couldn’t decide if we were sipping champagne or body rolling in the kitchen. It was perfect.
The door bangs shut behind us, and I wave from the porch until her headlights are out of sight. Making sure no one else is lurking behind the lavender bushes, I sigh before slumping against the door. The sounds of Viv, Marin, Harper, Matt, and Jalen cleaning up in the backyard and kitchen break the otherwise quiet early summer evening.
