“Claire…” Dylan reaches out, steady as ever, and gently eases the bowl from me before I ruin the batter.
“Do I just accept whatever someone’s willing to give me instead of demanding what I deserve?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she allows my question to linger between us as she scoops perfectly sized portions onto the baking sheet. Finally, her eyes float to mine.
“Do you want me to tell you what youwantto hear, or the truth?”
I huff out a laugh. “When have you evernottold me the truth, even when I didn’t want to hear it?”
“Fair enough.” She opens the oven and places the cookies inside. Then she leans against the counter opposite me, her gaze steady and unflinching. “You know I love you like a sister.”
“As do I.”
“But you do tend to put other people’s needs before your own. And it’s not because you’re weak or a pushover,” she adds quickly. “I’ve seen you stand your ground when it matters. Mostly in your job. But in relationships?” She shrugs. “You settle. You don’t ask for more. You accept leftovers instead of demanding a meal of your own. Like with Joshua.”
I straighten, furrowing my brow. “I didn’t want more with Joshua. I was the one who ended…whatever we were.”
“True, but how long did it take you to finally do that?”
I don’t respond. I don’t need to. She knows the answer. As do I.
It wasn’t until Joshua proposed that I realized how deep I’d allowed myself to get. By that point, we’d been sleeping together for over five years. Sure, I’d dated other people on occasion, usually only when he was also dating someone, but it never went anywhere.
“How many times did you meet someone you liked but didn’t pursue it because Joshua was going through a difficult breakup, or he was upset over his mom, or it was Tuesday?” Dylan continues. “You always puthisneeds ahead of your own. I love Joshua, but he took advantage of you. And you let him.”
I close my eyes, unable to come up with any argument or explanation. Because she’s right. I always dropped whatever I had to be there for Joshua. Hell, if he hadn’t proposed, I maystillbe there for him.
“Let me ask you this, Claire,” Dylan continues. “What do you want now?”
“I…” I shake my head, searching my brain. The room is suddenly too warm, the scent of vanilla too overpowering. “I don’t know.”
“Is that the truth?” She arches a brow. “Or are you just saying that because you’re worried it won’t work out between you and Declan?”
I whip my head toward her. “What are you talking about? We’re not—” I stammer. “I don’t?—”
“Save it.” She smirks. “I know all about you two.”
I’m speechless for several long moments before finally managing to ask, “How?”
“It didn’t take much sleuthing.” She tosses a handful of chocolate chips into her mouth. “A few days ago, I came home to grab some spices and saw your car in the driveway. But you weren’t here.” She leans in conspiratorially. “And let’s just say…the walls in this townhouse aren’t all that thick. Not thick enough to drown out you screaming Declan’s name. He must have really been giving it to you good.”
Heat scorches my cheeks, and I cover my face with both hands. “Oh, my god.”
“That’s exactly what you said that day, too. Except a lot louder.” Dylan grins, entirely too smug. “I had a feeling something was going on between you two, especially when I stumbled on you guys outside the bathroom at the bar all those weeks ago. I knew your excuse about giving him ideas for Christmas presents for Joshua was bullshit, considering he was eye-fucking the shit out of you.”
“He was not.”
She silences me with a look. Then she heads to the island and climbs on a barstool, her chin propped in her hands.
“Now spill. And don’t leave out a single detail.”
I don’t immediately say anything. But after last night, I need to talk to someone about it. And Dylan already knows. I may as well confide in her like I’ve wanted to since the beginning.
So instead of keeping the truth locked away, I look into my best friend’s eyes and tell her everything… Boston. The incredible sex. Realizing too late who he was. The stolen glances. The smoke detector. The night we gave into our urges. Joshuaalmost catching us. Tahoe. The night that wasn’t supposed to mean anything but somehow meant everything.
By the time I finish, the cookies are cooling on the counter and Dylan’s scooping more batter onto the baking sheet.
“And now?” she asks after popping the next batch of cookies into the oven.
