“You are special.”
“Not special enough, apparently.” I close the laptop, unable to watch Cole's face anymore. “Not special enough to risk his precious reputation for.”
Ariel curls up in the corner of the couch, her designer blouse slightly wrinkled. “Want to know something pathetic? I actually googled 'how to make a lazy boyfriend motivated'.”
I snort with laughter. “What did the internet say?”
“That you can't change people. That if someone doesn't want to better themselves, nothing you do will make them.” She sighs deeply. “But then Miles brought me coffee in bed one morning and I thought, maybe he's changing. Maybe he just needs more time.”
“Hope is a bitch,” I mutter.
“The biggest bitch.” Ariel stands up unsteadily and walks to her kitchen. “I have another bottle of wine. We're going to need it.”
“Are we having a pity party?”
“We're having a reality party. Time to face facts about our terrible taste in men.”
She returns with a bottle of expensive red wine and a corkscrew. “You want to know the really pathetic part about Miles? I've started leaving job listings on his laptop. Like, literally opening browser tabs to employment websites.”
“That's not pathetic, that's hopeful.”
“It's pathetic when he closes them without looking and asks me what's for dinner.” Ariel struggles with the corkscrew, her movements slightly clumsy from the alcohol. “God, I'm such a cliché. Successful career woman falls for unemployed musician and thinks she can change him.”
“I'm a bigger cliché. Successful businesswoman falls for client and ruins her reputation.”
“At least Cole loves you back. Miles loves my bank account more than me.”
The cork pops free, and Ariel pours generous glasses for both of us.
“Does Cole love me back, though?” I ask, accepting the wine. “Because today it felt like he loved his hockey career more.”
“What did he say when you confronted him?”
“I haven't confronted him. I've been hiding here, drinking your wine and watching him deny our relationship on repeat.”
“Harper, you are many things, but a coward isn't one of them.”
“I am tonight.” I take a sip of the new wine. “I'm scared, Ariel.”
“I know you’re not ready to hear this, but maybe he really did want to protect you, and he just went about it wrong. And if not, then at least you'll know. And then you can move on with your fabulous life and find someone who isn't afraid to love you publicly.”
We drink in contemplative silence for a while, both lost in our thoughts about the men who've disappointed us.
“You know what pisses me off most?” I say eventually. “I actually thought we were building something real. Something worth fighting for.”
“ Maybe he's just scared.”
“Scared of what? His teammates finding out he's human? His fans discovering he has feelings?”
“Scared of losing you.” Ariel's voice is softer now, the wine making her philosophical. “Men do stupid things when they're scared. They protect the wrong things.”
“Like their images instead of their relationships.”
“Like their pride instead of their hearts.”
By the time we finish the second bottle, we're both thoroughly drunk and thoroughly depressed about our romantic prospects.
“We should start a club,” Ariel says, her words slightly slurred. “Women Who Fall for Emotionally Unavailable Men.”
