“But now,” she says, “I have to do something else.”
She crumbles then, face in her hands. I pet her hair as she sobs, nodding and smiling at a dude who walks past us giving me anIs she okay?look of worry.
After a few minutes, Camila looks up and mumbles something about wanting to go to business school. Something about David getting funding to start his own restaurant in New York City. They have a real estate agent; the house will be sold soon, and they’re moving after their wedding, just in time for Cami to start school in Manhattan this fall. She’s already found her replacement—an internal hire. She’s also found the person who will replacethatperson. I don’t have to stress about anything. It will be a seamless transition, she promises.
I absorb every word, my lips trained into a smile as she rambles on without hardly breathing. But thewhyof it all doesn’t really matter.
Because the point is: Camila is leaving—Revenant and Austin—and that’s what’s best forher.
And the point is also: she’s still my best friend, and I’m still hers, and this isn’t going to make me fall apart. Because it isn’t bad news. It’s good.
I rub at Cami’s shoulder as her sobbing ebbs.
“In college,” I say, “you wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving the city where your family lives. Not because you needed them, because they needed you. They needed too much of you. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m just really fucking proud of you for putting yourself and your marriage first.”
She breaks down again, and I do, too. She pulls me into a tight hug. Over her shoulder I notice the same guy from before. He comes up to us this time, asking what’s wrong.
“Everything is fine!” I say, attempting a laugh and a smile.
He grimaces. “You sure?”
Camila turns around to face him. “You’re ruining the moment!” she barks.
He shakes his head and walks away when I start laughing. My face feels swollen. Camila’s makeup is a mess.
“You don’t seem shocked,” she says.
I wink at her. “This is the second time you’ve told me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I show up on the doorstep of Will’s East Austin Airbnb with one bottle of Tylenol and one bottle of red wine. He rented the fifth town house of a ten-unit complex that can’t have been built more than a few years ago. It’s not far from an outdoor wine bar I visit with my biker gang sometimes.
He swings open the front door, then points to the Tylenol. “You feeling okay?”
“It’s this weird tradition my friends and I formed back in college,” I explain. “People always bring alcohol to stock your bar, but never pills to stock your medicine cabinet.”
“That is weird,” he says.
“Yeah.” I grin.
He accepts the Tylenol. “You know this place is a rental, right?”
“A two-week rental!” I say excitedly.
He got permission to work remote for a while and focus on his three Austin clients. I’m over-the-moon thrilled to see him—tohave him here for days on end—but my guilt is still clawing at me, bruising my insides, scraping at my peace of mind.
Here we are again. Will bending for me, me letting him. It isn’t fair, and sooner rather than later, something has got to give.
When I step inside, I’m not sure what I’m expecting. Maybe slate-gray walls and steel furniture? A desk with three monitors, a bare-bones kitchen?
Instead, when I look right, I’m greeted by the largest, deepest beige couch I’ve ever seen, in a sunny living room. There’s an olive tree in one corner and surround sound music playing softly. The scent coming off the kitchen is delectable.
I’ve barely deposited the wine on the entryway table when Will hooks his arms around me, his hand cupping the back of my head. He crushes our lips together like it’s the only natural greeting.Hello. I missed you. I want you. I’m happy to see you.I move my mouth against his, repeating the unspoken words right back.
He pulls away, eyes dancing, and twirls a lock of my hair around his finger.
“Did you cook?” I ask, nodding toward the kitchen. I can just make out a grater from here on the visible part of the countertop. “When you suggested dinner in, I assumed we were ordering takeout.”
