I hurry to the bathroom to gather my things and meet my reflection in the mirror. Puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks greet me, so different from the satisfied woman I saw there this morning. My fingers grip the edge of the counter so hard that I wouldn’t be surprised if my nails leave crescent-shaped indentations in the granite.
Deep breath.
In for four.One, two, three, four.
Out for four.One, two, three, four.
I need someone to point me in the right direction. I don’t know how to trust my heart or my gut. They’re both a strangled, knotted mess right now.
My friends. They can help me. They can guide me.
Millie, Micah, Emil, Finn, Avery, Eloise. Their faces float through my mind like a string of Polaroids.
Theyare the people who have kept me steady for months. For years.
When I was crying into a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream three years ago, Millie was the one tucking my hair out of the way and telling me Gavin would come back. When I was feeling lonely in my house, Micah and Emil took me out to dinner and made me laugh. When I lost my job, Ave and El were the ones pulling me out of my funk with homemade pizza and a marathon of Disney movies.
Theyare the ones I need.
And they needme.
32
GAVIN
So far, my conversation with Auggie has consisted of fifteen minutes of silence, the only sound between us an occasional sip of beer.
He’s my best friend of twenty years, so quiet is normal for us. With how much time we spend together at work, and the number of evenings each week that I have dinner with his family, we frequently don’t have much left to say.
But this silence feels different, and despite how well we know each other, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking right now.
With a heavy sigh, he finally asks, “How long has this been going on behind my back?”
“Physically? Less than two days.”
He gives me a sidelong look that says he doesn’t believe me.
“Emotionally? About ten years.”
His forehead wrinkles as he stares at the gas fire between us. “Ten years?”
I swallow another sip of beer before admitting, “I think I’ve had a crush on her since I met her.”
“She was nineteen,” he snaps, sharp gaze flicking up to me.
“Well, fuck, I didn’t do anything about it,” I groan. “I thought she was beautiful and funny and smart.”
He stays silent, so I keep going. “But it wasn’t until three years ago that I realized … it might be more than that.”
A loud breath gusts from his lungs. “Is that why you left? Was all the bullshit you gave me about not feeling like you belong in our family a lie?”
“No. When I have feelings like I do for Lena, I don’t think Ishouldbe a part of your family. You told me she wasn’t going to be here this year, so I thought I could come back.”
“But you agreed to move here with me.” He yanks his hat off and drags a hand through his hair. “Did you think you were just going to avoid her when she came to visit?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
He shakes his head with an aggravated sigh. “What happened three years ago to make you leave?”
