“What’s with this lack of reaction?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I mean…I knew he was all in.”
She did. And I just threw it away. “He told me how he felt, and I turned him down.”
Her shoulders rise to her ears. “That doesn’t mean you’re out of the game.”
“He said he can’t be around me anymore.”
“Only if you don’t want a relationship with him. Pretty sure he’d be all upinyou if you do.” She applies setting powder to her forehead, the bridge of her nose. “Have you been with anyone else since we got home?”
“No.” I sent Jacob a kind but firm brush-off this morning. It felt wrong to lead him on, to make him think I’d be DTF anytimesoon when the prospect of being with someone, anyone, other than Ryan feels wrong on a cellular level. Unimaginable. Not when I can still feel his touch electrifying my skin, despite having gone over a week without it now. I wonder if it will ever fade. I wonder if I want it to.
“Then what are you worried about?” she says.
I bite my lip so fresh tears won’t streak my makeup. “I think…that part of me is broken.”
She rolls her eyes. “I thought the elderly were supposed to be wise.” She hands me a tissue. “You’re not broken—you’re recovering. You’ve just been burying shit for so long that your recovery is protracted. There’s not a person on this earth who works harder than you. So work on yourself. Open yourself up, invite him in. Let yourself be happy.” She watches me to see if her words are resonating.
First things first, I need to get this waterworks situation under control. Because the death grip my teeth have on my lip is not damming the tears. I cannot get up in front of thousands of people, under unforgiving lighting, with puffy eyes. Unacceptable.
As I reapply concealer, Maral excuses herself, tapping on her phone as she leaves the bathroom. She comes back a few minutes later and says she needs some privacy. “I had a burrito for lunch,” she says.
“I don’t know why you insist on doing that to yourself,” I say. “Or to me.”
“They need to stop being so delicious.”
As I leave her to desecrate my bathroom, I hear my phone ringing from the living room. I rush to see who it is, hoping dumbly against hope, but it’s not even my phone ringing—it’s Maral’s. The name scrolling across the top readsCeline Grant.
I knew they’d been in touch since San Francisco—Mar mentioned something about introducing her to people at the Boston MPA so she could network for potential national internshipopportunities—but didn’t realize they were on regular-calls terms. Although maybe this isn’t so regular. Maybe something happened?
Quickly, I swipe to answer. “Celine, hi,” I say. “It’s Ana.”
“Ana!” she squeals on the other end. “How are you?”
This ray of sunshine. Is it possible to miss someone you barely know?
“Getting through,” I say, surprising myself by not saying my rote line ofI’m fine. Is this what they call progress? “Maral’s indisposed for the moment. Is everything okay?”
“Totally!” she says. “Well, actually. Y’know, depends on what you callokay. I’m in kind of a bind.”
Something pinches in my chest.Shit.In all my own drama, Celine’s tuition predicament got back-burnered in my mind. Ryan’s leaving the cash cow behind.
“I’m so sorry,” I rush out. “About your tuition.”
“Ugh,” she says. “Yeah, that’s a bummer. But at least my brother can finally be happy for once in his life. Worth the debt!”
I chuckle at her dramatics. “To be fair, I don’t think working at Woodsworth made himthatunhappy.”
“But it was always an obstacle standing in his way with you. And now it’s gone! I saw that picture of you guys kissing—which, gross, by the way. But also, like,finally.”
I’m at a loss, not quite following. “Finally,” I say, it coming out as more of a hesitant statement than a question.
“Yeah! He’s had a crush on youforever. All I’ve heard about for years is how amazing you are. I kept telling him, leave Woodsworth so you can ask her out! But he talked all this nonsense about the tuition-matching program andmaintaining professional boundaries,” she says, dropping her voice to emulate him. “He always does that. Denies himself, puts himself last. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure he thought he didn’t stand a chance with you. I mean, the way he talked about you, it was as if you lit the sun. But then you guys kissed and it was like,Woodsworth who?”
I try to form words, but they’re trapped in tar somewhere behind my sternum.Had a crush on you foreverkeeps whirling like a dervish in my mind.
“I just want him to be happy!” Celine goes on. “Merit’s been trying to recruit him for ages—since he did some tie-in thingy with their team or something? He kept refusing to take it seriously. But, boom, one kiss and he’s blowing up their phone the next day.”
