“It’s not what I think. It’s what I know. Idon’thave a safety net. I don’t have a trust fund to catch me if I fall. I don’t have my dad waiting in the wings to hire me if my bar doesn’t succeed.”
“Wow. Is that what you really think of me?”
“I didn’t mean—”
He takes another step closer to me. “Youhavea safety net, Meg.I’myour safety net. Our decade of friendship is your safety net. When you broke up with Ollie, I was there to catch you when you fell. I have always been there for you. I will always be there for you.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“I’m not your father. I’m not going to walk away and never look back. You’ll never have to beg me for tuition. I’m not your mom. I’m not going to prefer your sisters because they’re easier to deal with or control. I am here for you. I have been here for you. Just like you’ve been here for me. That’s what love is.”
I take a second, letting his words flow over me. And I still can’t wrap my head around them.
This time, maybe for the first time this morning, I force myself to look at him. To really look at him.
And I just shake my head. “Yeah, that sounds great. But that’s not how our friendship works.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Our friendship only works because I don’t ask anything of you. Everyone wants something from you. That’s how it’s always been. All those people who come and go in your life. The Selahs of the world. They want something from you. They expect something from you. I don’t. That’s why I get to stay. That’s why you put up with me. Because I never ask you for money or favors. All I expect is your company and your friendship. That’s what makes me different.”
“God. you have it all wrong. What makes you different is you’reyou. I’m in love with you. I’m not in love with the idea that you don’t need me. Frankly, I could handle you needing me a little more. I would welcome that, because then at least it wouldn’t feel like I was the only one in this relationship.”
He takes a step backwards, towards the door. I don’t stop him.
He just stares at me, like he’s waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, he just shakes his head as he turns and walks away.
He pauses at the top of the stairs, glancing back at me just long enough to add, “And stop calling it a friendship. It’s a relationship. A real, adult romantic relationship. At least that’s what I’m in. When you’re ready to be in it with me, you can come find me.”
And then he walks out the door.
chaptertwenty-two
I am probably tooupset to drive, but I do anyway. Even Austin can’t produce dangerous traffic at this time of day on a Sunday. I keep it together all the way downtown, mostly by refusing to let myself think. It’s not until I pull into the parking garage beneath the Prescott towers that I let my mind go.
This is a disaster. Worse than a disaster. I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it. I should never have given free rein to my emotions and urges. But it’s not like it’s a disaster solely of my own making. I’m not the only one to blame. Keegan holds at least as much responsibility for the situation as I do. Maybe more. After all, I was the one who didn’t want change.
After all, I was the reasonable one. I was the one who wanted to keep our relationship exactly where it was. Safe. He’s the one who pushed things. And what did he mean, saying he loved me? That he’s been in love with me? Is he delusional? Does he think I don’t remember what’s happened?
Does he think I don’t remember what our relationship has been like for the past 10 years? Is he trying to gaslight me? And what about popping all of this on me on the weekend when he knows how much work I have to do? What’s the idea with that? It’s like he’s trying to sabotage my career.
This isn’t helpful. I can’t just sit in my car all day and mentally rant about Keegan. So I pry myself out of the car. Through sheer force of will, I make it all the way up to the office. By rote, I sit at my desk, stashing my purse in the drawer and my tote at my feet. I boot up my computer and pull out my tablet and stylus. I stare at the blank screen. I wait. And wait.
I wait for my mind to stop churning. For my brain to stop replaying scenes from last night, from this morning. The things Keegan said to me. The way he said them. His claim that he’s inlovewith me. That he’sbeenin love with me.
Am I really supposed to believe that?How?Howam I supposed to believe that?
Which is not what I should be thinking about! I glance down to see that I’ve written the word “how” over and over again. A couple of times in cursive. Once in big block letters with hashed-in shading.
I should be wonderinghowI’m going to get all this work done by tomorrow!
I’m just about to–literally–throw up my hands in exasperation when someone clears their throat behind me.
I spin my chair around to see Reid standing by my desk. He’s dressed in gray sweatpants and a T-shirt. There’s a faintly damp vee at his neck, and he’s holding his earbuds in his hand. He looks effortlessly hot. Competent. Total thirst trap material.
Which should have my tongue lolling out of my mouth like a cartoon character, but somehow leaves me unaffected.
He must notice me taking in his outfit, because he clears his throat again, sliding his earbuds back into their case. “I was out jogging and thought I’d stop by.”
