Natalie wandered in the room and flopped onto the bed beside me. Wordlessly, I passed her the thick stationery. When she finished, she folded the paper and handed it back to me, her disbelief and scorn obvious in her lip curl. “New rule. We don’t date people who keep weddings on without telling you. How low can you go, Wells Stratton?”
“Seriously,” I said, aiming for a conviction I wasn’t sure I felt. Because part of this was my fault, too. Suddenly, and not without a sinking sense of unease, I thought of things other people neglected with consequence. Taxes. The dentist. Mental health. I had a whole entire wedding that I hadn’t bothered to formally cancel, because I assumed someone else would do it, because I didn’t want to give it the headspace. Me, parrot of all facts, ignoring the fattest ones. Shame coursed in my lungs, streamed across my cheeks. The lack of follow-through was mortifying, and so was thinking about spreading the word among my friends and loved ones that the article was true; Wells and I were kaput, andFrom Yes to I Dohad lost its promoted season premiere.
I yanked open my nightstand drawer, clearing it of stray earring backs, bookmarks from two local indies, and my favorite hand lotion. “Hey, Nat?” I said. “Can you distract me?”
Natalie sat up. “I broke up with Danny.” She unzipped a duffel bag and began loading my exercise clothing into it.
I stopped, guilt squelching through my mouth. “You did?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? That doesn’t even qualify for a new rule. That one is pre-established.”
Natalie blew a strand of hair out of her face. “You’ve sort of had a lot going on, my love.”
My chest caved. “Still.”
Natalie shrugged. “Still. Your life took a total one-eighty.”
“But if things are done with Danny...” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip. Danny had been Natalie’s on-and-off guyfor years. They were plus-ones, movie buddies, friends-with-benefits. “Then yours did, too,” I finished.
“I never wanted more than what I had with him. But when Soulmail came out, my mom was mine, and he received one I haven’t heard about. It’s someone whose birthdate is TBD.”
“What?” I gasped, thunderstruck. “How can that—”
Natalie stood. “See? This is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’re my best friend, and I love you desperately, but Soulmail is affecting everyone, Liv. Not just you. I can see your mind working over this—thisnews,” she said. It came out halfway mean. “Listen. You’re the face of something so monumental, and your life has taken this massively unexpected twist.” Here, she pointed at Wells’s note. “But I’m here, too.”
I fell silent. Dust motes swirled in the air, empty hangers in my closet stilling. Somewhere, Wells’s grandfather clock chimed. “You are one hundred percent right,” I said. “I’ve been ridiculously self-absorbed.”
A smile twitched on the corners of Natalie’s mouth, then fell. “You said it, not me,” she said. This time, it was kind.
I shook my head. “You picked up your entire life, came back to my fancy hotel, and had me move in with you. You’ve been my sounding board and I’ve barely made time for your stuff. I’m so sorry, Nat. That’s not me.”
“I know.” Natalie sighed. “Apology accepted.”
I held open my arms, and Natalie fell into them. “Let’s DoorDash tacos here,” I said, my words muffled in Natalie’s hair. “You can cry about Danny if you want.”
“I don’t want to cry about Danny.”
“Fair.”
“But you do want the story.”
“Of course I do,” I admitted.
“His Soulmail has his last name,” Natalie said. “Future kid, we’re guessing. I think he wanted to make me his concubus, which... You know I’m child-free by choice.”
Relief washed through me. “You mean his baby incubator?”
“Yeah. Whatever. Same thing.”
“A concubus is a sexual demon.”
Natalie lifted her head and waggled her brows. “Then I was already that.”
I released my friend and stood. “It’s settled,” I said. “You’ll come out with me and Caleb tonight to celebrate my new spot.”
Natalie twisted her mouth. “Are you sure? He was such a jerk to you.”
