I step away from the door and gesture toward it. “Have at it.”
Eyes on me, he swings the door open and then looks into the closet to find all the coats on the ground, but not a body in sight. Confused, he meets my eyes again. “What the hell?”
“Did you really think I’d hide someone in there? Or even want anyone but you?” I push lightly at his shoulder.
“You were acting weird. What am I supposed to believe?”
“Uh, how about the fact that I freaking told you I loved you in Banff? Wouldn’t that be evidence enough that no one would be in the freaking coat closet?” The minute the words slip past my lips, I regret them. Just like before, he freezes, his eyes widen, and it’s like the word love makes him turn catatonic.
This right here . . . this is why I’m losing it.
This is why I feel like crying every time I look him in the eyes.
Because it’s as if he’s completely and utterly horrified I even muttered the words.
“God, I can’t stand you.” I move past him to put on my shoes, then I grab my wallet and head to the door.
“Where are you going?” he finally asks.
“Somewhere not near you.” I walk out the front door and slam it as, once again, embarrassment consumes me.
Flipping through my phone, I pull up Blakely’s phone number and press send.
It rings three times and then, “What have you done now? Change out his shampoo for mayo?”
“Blakely, I need you.”
Her voice grows serious. “What’s wrong?”
“Meet me at Mabel’s Ice Cream . . . please?”
“Give me ten minutes.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
Waffle conein hand with a giant serving of peanut butter cookie dough ice cream, I say, “You have to admit, the shoe succulent was a good one.”
She bites into her homemade ice cream sandwich—two double chocolate cookies with strawberry ice cream in the middle—and then says, “I did kind of like it. Didn’t mean it was right, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you really think messing with his stuff is going to fix things?”
“I’m not messing with his things. I’m nesting. Ever heard of it?”
“I have, but you’re not nesting. You’re being vengeful.”
“How so?”
She pins me with a look. “Don’t do that runaround bullshit with me, Penny. I’m your best friend. I’ve known you long enough to understand when you’re hurting and deflecting, and that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m not hurting,” I say, biting into my ice cream. She asked me if everything was okay when we arrived, and I lied. Told her I just needed to share ice cream with her. We then went into the fun things I’ve been doing around the house, avoiding the one main issue, how I truly feel.
“So you’re telling me you’re not hurt at all from him not telling you he loves you or claiming you as his girlfriend?”
“No. I’m fine.” I look away, unable to answer truthfully.
