“You’re the closest friends I’ve ever seen,” Aaron remarks.
“We’re not,” Nate adds. “We’re just normal. Platonic.” He says it casually, but there’s an edge to it that I’ve not heard before. I glance at him and I’m only pulled away when Aaron speaks again.
“Why?” he asks. “You guys could probably work together.”
“Definitely work together,” Trixie adds.
“That’s just not how we are.” Nate has a lot of practice saying this. He has for years. He said it to my parents, to Rob, and to Quinn. It’s simple enough.
It’s just not how we are.
Because that’s what it is. It’s a simple fact that we’re ...friends.
“Exactly,” I force out. “We’re happy like that.”
I don’t feel happy about it, and I hate that I don’t. But I’m also supposed to be married right now, and here I am on a cruise with my best friend who won’t even?—
Pushing the thought out of my mind, I stand. “Excuse me. I never went to the restroom when I got back.”
I keep it together until I get through the door. Then my breaths turn shaky.
We shouldn’t have left the boat. That already had me messed up, and now I’m having to explain my friendship to strangers, which I haven’t done inyears. Being with Rob cemented the fact that Nate and I will always be friends, and only friends.
Now I don’t have that.
I’ve never liked having to explain Nate and me to people. We simply ... are. And I’m fine with that. No one else needs to know anything else.
But I’m far from fine in the bathroom. And I need to figure out why.
One of the stall doors opens and my gaze falls to my hands. I’d slipped away from the group to have a moment to myself, but now that I’m standing in the bathroom not needing to use it, I try to get my breathing under control while washing my hands, pretending I have a reason to be in here.
“You okay?” I know that voice.
My gaze snaps up to see Scarlett. She looks gorgeous in a tight red dress. Her hair is straight and falls over her shoulder.
“Uh, hi.”
She gives me a half smile as she washes her hands. “A bathroom isn’t a great place to have an emotional moment.”
“I-I’m fine.”
She raises one single eyebrow that tells me I’m full of shit.
Right. She’s a therapist.
“Are you?” she challenges.
“No. Not really.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“I thought you were off duty.”
“I am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help a fellow gal who’s nearing a panic attack.”
My shoulders slump. “Just bill me later.”
She laughs. “This is what I consider community service. What happened?”
