"I think she was equally horrified at me and Kathryn," Veronica assures me. "She considers it to be improper to talk about those kinds of things."
"Perhaps it is. I can't say I'm fond of the idea of it being talked about, especially when everyone seems to have ideas about what I'm doing that aren't true." I tighten my grip on the remaining croissant, only realising I've crushed it when I look at my hand.
I let it drop to the plate, but it's too late. I can feel the emotions rising within me, and with them comes the very real threat of tears. A sniff escapes me and I turn away so that Veronica doesn't see.
"Evie? Are you crying?" she asks.
"No." The word comes out strangled.
There's an uncomfortably loud scrape of the chair, and Veronica comes around to the other side of the table and pulls out the chair beside me. "Evie?"
Tears roll down my face, and I don't really know what to do with myself. There's a part of me that wants to tell Veronica what happened and see if she can help me untangle it, but this is also her fault.
"What happened?" she asks, handing me a handkerchief.
I take it from her and dab under my eyes, but I'm not entirely sure how much good it's going to do. Veronica doesn't do anything other than sit and watch me.
"I'm sorry," I croak.
"You don't have to be sorry," she says softly. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry like that before."
"I've cried in front of you multiple times."
"Yes, but normally it's because you're overwhelmed with the world around you. This was different. Is it about what Mama said? I can talk to her and tell her she's making you uncomfortable."
"I can't ask you to do that." I sniff a couple of times and wipe away a few more tears.
"I'm offering. I can't say I'm thrilled that's what you need, because it's not going to be a fun conversation, but I can do it if you want me to."
"It's not about Mama."
She looks confused. Maybe. "What else could have happened?"
"I told Nate," I blurt out. "I told him, and it was a disaster."
"Will you tell me what happened?"
I want to tell her no, but I need to talk about this to someone, and currently my best friend is off limits for this conversation. I take a deep breath and consider how to explain without making it sound worse than it already is. "He said that he knew our time together would probably be over when I get married, and I wanted to assure him that it wasn't true. So I told him that I loved him and that nothing would come between us."
"What did he say?" Veronica asks.
"That he loved me too and that I was his best friend."
"Ah."
"It's bad, isn't it?" Tears prick the corners of my eyes again.
"It's not as bad as you think," she says. "If you told me exactly how you said it, then there's a chance he doesn't know that you meant you love him as more than a friend. So of course that's what he's going to say back to you."
"Why wouldn't he just say what he means?"
"Why didn't you?"
"I did."
"No, you think you did," she counters. "I know that to you it meant that you love him, but that's not what you said. He was worried about losing your friendship. His thoughts likely weren't on anything more. You need to try again."
"And what if he says the same thing?"
