He was at the kitchen counter, his back to her with his head hanging low.
“Please leave,” he said firmly as she stood at the threshold catching her breath.
“No.”
He turned around and his eyebrows shot up. “No?”
“I want to hear what you have to say.”
“Do you? Do you really?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, watching her with a look of disbelief mixed with irritation.
“Yes! You’re my friend. I want to be friends at the very least.”
“Friends,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head. “Right.”
“Please, Knightley. Don’t push me away again.” She ignored the panic rising in her throat and lifted her chin. She could do this; she could handle whatever he had to say. What was the worst itcould be? He and Nadine were in love and moving to California? The thought made her sick. But for him, she would hear it. She owed him that.
“Push you away?” he replied and scoffed, raking a hand down his face. “Jesus, you’re impossible.”
He turned his back to her, his head falling forward again as he leaned his hands on the counter.
Her mouth fell open.
“I’m impossible?” she cried, her voice high and loud, but she didn’t care. All of her frustration was rising like the tide, her anger bubbling up to a white-hot rage. “You ignored me for weeks. You drop off the face of the earth. You left. You leftme! Then you come back, acting like nothing has changed. Like you can still push me to live up to your ridiculous standards. And I’m the one that’s impossible? You’re the impossible one! You lecture me, you blame me, and I always take it! You tell me to grow up, when you’re the one acting immature. You’re pissed when I don’t do thingsexactlyas the perfect Mr. George Knightley would. I can’t fucking win with you!”
She watched the broad expanse of his back, how his shoulders rose and fell with each angry breath. But he still wouldn’t face her.
“Stop ignoring me!”
She grabbed whatever her hand found nearby, a small book on the coffee table, and hurled it at him.
It landed with a thud beyond his feet, and he whipped around. His brow was knit together, whether by surprise or anger, she couldn’t tell.
“Say something, Knightley! Talk to me!”
He didn’t respond at first. Just watched her, an icy glow in his golden eyes.
“You really think I’m horrible, don’t you?” His voice was so low she could barely hear it.
“Don’t you dare twist my words,” she hissed. “I’m mad at you!”
“Yeah, I get that!” he shouted, the words echoing through the room.
She narrowed her eyes on him. “No, you don’t get it. You can’t just pretend I don’t exist!”
“Believe me, I know!”
He clenched his jaw, breathing slow and deep. She waited, watching him struggle, like he was having an internal debate about what to do next.
“You want to know what I have to say?” His voice was deep and gritty as he pushed himself off the counter and began to walk toward her, one slow deliberate step after another.
“Yes,” she said, stepping backward as he approached, lifting her chin higher even when she hit the wall behind her with nowhere left to go.
He stopped in front of her, leaving only a few precious inches between them.
“Even if it might change everything?” he murmured. His expression was almost pained.
“I’m your friend, Knightley. Nothing will ever change that,” she said. Her heart tripped as her confidence wavered, her anger subsiding. There was no way he couldn’t hear her pulse; it was thundering too loudly in her own ears.
