“I’m sorry it happened the way it did,” Darwin says. “I’m sorry for how much pain it caused you. But marrying Nate would have been a mistake.”
I take a deep breath. “I know.”
Darwin blinks at me, surprised. “So what’s the problem?”
I don’t have the energy to dissect my feelings, so I simply say, “George lied to me.”
“Frankie,” he says with pity. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. Give George a chance. You know him. You know why it might be hard for him to tell you how he feels. He thought he’d have more time.”
“Wait a sec. How do you know that?”
“We’re friends, too. Not in the way you two are, but yeah, I care about him. We talk. Moby and I have given him shit for being into you for as long as we’ve known him.”
“You both suck.”
“But he didn’t cop to it until you guys were living together. He had no clue what to do about it.”
“And did you ever think to suggest that he tell me?”
“Sure. All the fucking time. But George was adamant there’d be a perfect moment, and he made a good case. He thought you’d be angry if he told you at the wrong time.” He smirks. “Which you would have been. You would have thought he was endangering your friendship or your independence or some shit. But then you got engaged to someone you’d just met.”
“And he let me think Nate left because of something I did,” I say, my voice rising. “You let me think that, too.”
“Nate left because he realized you’d never been yourself with him. He saw what you were too obstinate to admit.”
“And what’s that?”
“That you and George are meant to be together,” Darwin continues, lowering his voice. “I get it. We don’t talk about when Mom went away, but it impacted all of us. I mean, Moby’s a complete fool.”
I huff out a reluctant laugh. “Total weirdo.”
“I used to have nightmares about Mom leaving again,” Darwin says. “Now I dream about Anh vanishing in the middle of the night.”
My throat aches. I didn’t know that. “Anh would never.”
“I know. It’s not rational. But it’s there—that fear of being left. I bet you have it, too.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I nod.
Darwin’s gaze softens.
“And I’m afraid of hurting the people I love,” I whisper.
“Frankie. You’d never harm George.”
“But I already have,” I tell him. “I was so caught up in my own bullshit that I missed what even you and Moby could see.”
“I’m not going to disagree. You can be obtuse when you want to be. But I bet there’s not a single time in the decades you’ve been friends that you intentionally hurt George. You guarded him like a little gremlin when you were kids, and you haven’t changed. You love him.”
“I do.”
“So what’s the problem?” Darwin asks again.
“Thatisthe problem. I love him, but I’m a mess.” I wave my arm at my bedroom. “This is probably the worst possible time to begin a relationship. This thing with George…it’s too important to risk screwing up. I need to get it right.”
“Funny,” he says. “That’s what George used to say.”
• • •
