“Will that be enough?” I ask her, looking back in my cabinet to see that I have a few other options. I am not in the mood for wine, and I head to the fridge for a beer.
“You tell us,” Amelia says, eyeing me. “What is Ash talking about and why are you being so snippy with him?”
I sigh. “Alcohol first, talk later.”
“Only a few sips,” Mac challenges. “We wanna know what’s going on with you. You haven’t exactly been around much.”
I nod. “I know but I’m giving all of my coupled-up friends some space so that you don’t have to be with your single friend—guilt-free.”
I say the words and I already feel like an ass. That’s not fair to any of them. And, frankly, I am happy for them.
“Sorry, that wasn’t fair,” I admit, shrugging as I take a pull from the beer that I just twisted open.
“You’re allowed to feel how you want to,” Cassie says, grinning at me, her psych degree showing. “And I know it feels like you are the only one who isn’t coupled up so that can be lonely for you.”
“Feels like? She is the only one who isn’t...” Amelia’s words die on her lips.
“I think we need to get better at girl’s nights,” Mac admits, sipping on her wine.
“I think I should just get better at talking to you all and telling you what is happening, but this is a bit delicate. So, I’m going to need total silence on this. This goes nowhere outside of this room,” I say, staring pointedly at each of them.
Mac and Amelia’s hands snap up in surrender, both of them nodding their heads.
“Of course, that goes without saying. We have your back. No one will know,” Cassie says, coming over and pulling me into a side hug.
“That goes with the boyfriends too. Theycannotknow,” I warn them. I look around and I’m met with more nods. “Ugh, I am so not good at sharing my feelings. Let me get some hummus and veggies, and we can talk this out.”
I make quick work of plating up some cucumbers, peppers and carrots while grabbing the tub of hummus from the fridge as well. We head into the living room and sit in our normal seats around the coffee table, Mac and Cassie on the couch, Amelia on the recliner and me on the floor by the coffee table. There is another chair, but I opt for the floor to be closer to them. I take a dip of hummus on a pepper and chew it, mentally deciding just how much I should tell them.
“So,” Mac says, staring at me with a grin. “What is going on, Hendrix?”
I exhale slowly, bracing myself, then lift my gaze to them.
Their faces instantly soften as if they can see how hard this is for me. I’m not the one who is good at being vulnerable with anyone.
I swallow, choosing my words carefully, the way I always do when I’m trying not to give myself away. My fingers tap against the table, as I think before I jump into this. To their credit, no one says a word. They wait for me to be ready.
I finally say it. “August and I are talking again. That’s it. I’m not labeling anything.”
The words land like a pebble dropped into still water—small but the ripples are undeniable.
I notice the looks that are exchanged: the smile that Cassie is trying to hide, Mac’s knowing stare and Amelia’s cautiously optimistic grin.
“This doesn’t surprise you?” I look at each of their faces, afraid of judgment that never comes. It confirms that this is what is so great about these women that I have found. No judgments, just support and answers when I need them.
Mac talks first. “There is a thin line between love and hate.”
I chuckle. “What? That’s kinda what he said last night. Or something to that effect.” I grin, thinking back to bringing him dinner.
“Oh, I have never seen you smile that brightly, especially when it comes to August. Normally, you want to rip that man’s throat out,” Cassie reminds me.
“I know, normally I do,” I say, shrugging. I look down and avoid their eyes, even though I can feel them on me.
“There is no judgment here, Hen. I, for one, happen to think August is a nice guy. I think I’ve probably spent the most time with him,” Amelia begins. “Since he’s friends with Dex, he comes over to see us and sometimes he tags along when we grab food. I like him. I think he’s a good guy. Now, my experience is different with him than yours.” Amelia holds her hand up like she has to qualify her response.
I smile at her. “I’m glad that you like him. I never wanted you guys to hate him,” I begin then laugh. “Okay, well, maybe I did in the beginning, but I’m glad that you don’t. He can be a nice guy. He and I just have history.”
“The kind of history that just doesn’t go away,” Mac says, grinning at me.
