“Yes,” I whisper. “Keep going.”
At least I have my evening with Emily to look forward to. She’s been my rock through all of this—calling me every day to make sure I’ve eaten, and texting me cat videos to cheer me up.
And so when I’m back at home and I hear a knock at the door, I already know who it is.
The knock is followed by the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.
“I’m letting myself in,” Emily calls, voice muffled through the door. “And I swear to God, if you’re lying in the dark eating dry cereal again, I’m staging an intervention.”
I don’t answer. Mostly because… well, Iamlying in the dark, though it’s leftover pasta this time. Cold. Straight from the container.
She pushes the door open with a grunt and enters, arms full—one paper bag of takeout, one tote bag slung over her shoulder, and the unmistakable scent of garlic naan trailing in her wake.
She stops cold in the entryway, surveying the scene like she’s walked into a crime show.
“Whoa,” she says. “Youreallylet go.”
I groan, sitting up straighter on the couch and brushing off a napkin stuck to my sock. “It’s been a week. And I’ve been busy. Sort of.”
“Uh-huh.” She kicks aside a laundry pile and heads for the kitchen, dumping the bags on the counter. “This doesn’t say busy, Nora. This says post-apocalyptic nesting. Did youbathethis week?”
“Probably.”
Emily doesn’t waste time. She starts cleaning like she’s on a mission—throwing laundry into a basket, stacking mugs, scrubbing a suspicious ring off the coffee table. I try to protest, but she’s already found my sponge and is muttering about antibacterial spray like a woman possessed.
“I was going to do that,” I mumble.
“Youweregoing to ignore it until the dust bunnies formed a militia,” she shoots back. “Sit. Eat. You look like you’ve been living on stress hormones and peppermint tea.”
She brings me a takeout box and chopsticks and finally plops down next to me, grabbing a dumpling for herself like she earned it. Which, honestly, she has.
For a while, we eat in silence. The kind only years of friendship can hold without strain.
Then she speaks.
“So.”
I brace myself.
“So… we finally need to talk about this, Nora. This has gone on long enough. And I can’t pretend my best friend didn’t just come back from an epic road trip with a rockstar, vanish into her own apartment, and resurface looking like a Victorian ghost who misplaced her corset?”
I laugh. Sort of. But it catches in my throat.
“I miss him,” I say finally.
Emily nods like she already knew. “Yeah.”
“I miss Melody. I miss Annie and Lucas and DeShawn. I miss the noise. The bus. The weird little routines.”
“You misshim,” she says gently.
I nod, eyes stinging. “He sent me away. And I still miss him.”
She reaches for my hand, warm and steady. “Did he tell you why?”
“No.” I shake my head, jaw tight. “He just… shut down. Said he doesn’t want to be with me. But he’ll support the baby. That’s it.”
Emily swears under her breath.
