“I almost forgot what that flutter was.” Marin swirls her own glass of kombucha, cheeks coloring. “It made me feel like I might still have a future. Like there might be something on the other side of all this guilt.”
“You do have a future.” I set my empty glass on the coffee table and lean close. “You’re not frozen in place because everything stopped for a while.”
Marin sinks deeper into the couch with a groan. “I swear, I used muscles I didn’t know I had trying to remember how to flirt. I didn’t think I’d feel anything again. Especially not on date three with a dentist who complimented my enamel.” She lets out a short laugh.
“Let’s hope that next time he gets to see more of you to compliment.” Viv winks. “Is he coming to the party?”
Marin wiggles her phone. “That was him confirming that he’ll be there.”
I almost expect her to let out a girlish squeal with the announcement.
“I did something much more intimate than sex last night.” Viv’s statement is casual, as though she’s declaring that she decided to give oat milk another try.
We both turn to her.
“Viv!” Marin’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t finally let someone see your feet, did you?”
“Hell no!” Viv grabs her chapstick off the end table and dabs her lips with it. “But thank you for reminding me I’m overdue fora pedicure. I’m talking about real intimacy. The terrifying, soul-baring kind.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done with Viv?”
Harper, who’s sitting cross-legged on the rug, eating a Pop-Tart like she’s watching a daytime talk show, chimes in. “She’s not lying. I was there. I have emotional whiplash.”
Viv rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. “I was out back hanging fairy lights last night, and I got hit by this wave of sadness. You know that kind that sneaks up and punches you in the throat? One second you’re yelling at a knot of extension cords, and the next you’re grieving your whole damn life.”
We’re quiet now, the joking gone still. Viv’s voice drops softer.
“Danny would’ve fixed the lights in thirty seconds and then made fun of my taste in disco ball garland. And I missed him. But not in that nostalgic, ‘aw, memories’ kind of way. In the gut-level, ‘how do I still breathe without you?’ kind of way.”
Viv glances at Harper, her eyes shinier than usual.
“And then Harper came out with tea. No lecture. No awkward questions. She sat next to me while I ugly cried about the fact that I loved my best friend so deeply that I don’t think I know how to let him go. And I don’t know how to love anyone else because I keep measuring them by a man who doesn’t exist anymore. And I can’t stand to sit in the silence because the silence is where I drown, and if I fill it with enough life, then death can’t touch me.”
Harper puts down her Pop-Tart and moves beside her on the floor, resting her head on Viv’s shoulder. “You’re not broken because you loved him well. You’re grieving honestly. That’s brave.”
Viv snorts, blinking rapidly. “If this turns into an after-school special, I’m out.”
Marin nudges her. “Too late. We’re already planning the commercial break.”
I smile at the two of them, the way Harper leans into Viv, theway Viv doesn’t flinch. “That’s beautiful, Viv. That you let someone see you like that. Especially someone like Harper. She’s a good reminder that life can and does go on.”
Viv lifts Harper’s hand and kisses the back of it dramatically. “Don’t make a habit of being emotionally supportive, Harper. It’ll ruin your sarcastic brand.”
Harper smirks. “I’ve got range.”
Marin sighs, mock-wiping a tear. “I love us. We’re like a Hallmark movie, but with better boobs and trauma.”
Viv laughs and tosses a pillow at her. “That’s going on our group text bio.”
And then Viv’s eyes narrow in my direction. “Alright, your turn.”
I blink. “My turn for what?”
Marin shifts to sit upright, suddenly alert. “We haven’t properly unpacked the whole Noah on the roof with no pants and the post-coital glow you were rocking. You want to talk aboutyourthing with Noah or should we assume he was looking for his mailbag up there?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I mutter, pulling a throw pillow into my lap like it’s emotional armor and wondering if it’s possible to die of embarrassment talking about sex with my daughter in the room.
Viv grins. “So. You and Noah. How are we feeling?”
