Chapter Six
Holly
“What?!” I say into the phone.
It’s Bryn, and in a very calm, very unemotional voice that suggests she’s destroyed inside, she just told me that she and Mayo Sandwich are dunzo.
He proposed to her yesterday, a little over a week after our shitty-for-the-ages birthday celebration, and she accepted on the spot—only to call me, upset, and ask if I really thought she should tell him the kids thing was a dealbreaker. I probably should have shut the fuck up, but I told her I did.
I guess this is what came of me and my big mouth.
“What?” she asks, with a vein of steel in her voice. “You want me to tell you that you were right about him? Congratulations, Holly. You were right. Maybe I can order a princess cake to celebrate.”
“Don’t,” I say. “I’m still sensitive about losing the other one at the bar.”
“How do you lose a cake?” she asks, and I can imagine her swatting the air as she adds, “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“Want me to get another one and bring it over?” I suggest. “I’ll ask them to make the crunch layer extra large. How about a sea of ice cream? We can watch the inspiration collection.”
It’s what we called our round-up of our favorite romantic comedies from when we were kids—our inspiration for making matches.
“Fuck no,” she says with a humorless laugh. “Love is a lie. Happily Ever After is for fairy tales.”
“Not the image we want to sell.” I’m trying to make her for-real laugh even though I know it’s too soon.
“Even so. I’m not going to fall for that shit again. Ever. A job’s a job. I can still do what I’m paid for.”
“Bryn…” I pause, trying to think of the right words.You did the right thing. He’s out there for you. I love you. You deserve everything you want, and you should be with someone who wants to give it to you.
“Just don’t,” she says, her voice wavering. “I can’t. Not right now.”
“Can I come over?” I press.
“No, I think I need to be alone.”
“Do you….are you mad at me, Bryn?”
She huffs out a breath. “Holly, you don’t need to make everything about yourself. Like I said, you were right. Don’t make a habit of it.”
Then she hangs up. There’s a tugging sensation in my middle, like the invisible bond between us is being stretched to its limit, because no matter what she said, I know shedoesblame me. At least a little.
What a week. What a fucking week.
Last weekend, I had to bail my father out of jail after he and Greg the Wall got arrested for robbing an IHOP. What actually happened, I guess, is that they were promised endless pancakes, and they kept asking for more and more of them, knowing they couldn’t possibly consume them at the restaurant, then tried to tuck them into a bunch of tupperware containers they’d broughtwith them. This led to a feud with the waiter, probably because they hadn’t left him a tip, and an arrest.
It turns out that Greg’s “Wall” nickname isn’t that interesting or fun (shocker)—the man’s literally built like a brick wall. Why my father thought that would require a long story, I’ll never know.
Now there’s this mess with Bryn…
I can’t say I’m sorry she’s not marrying Mayo, but I hate that she’s heartbroken. I’d rather my own heart fracture a dozen times than watch hers break.
I’ve almost told her about Cole half a dozen times this past week, mostly because he refuses to leave my mind, but now I won’t. I can’t. Getting Bryn through this is going to take some doing.
I call Rowan up to let him know what’s happening, and he’s stupefied by the news.
“Shit. They were together for five years, weren’t they?”
“Six. It felt like seven.”
