“You’ve been talking about getting married for two years. It wouldn’t be a surprise.”
She widened her eyes meaningfully. “He wants to make me dinner tonight.”
“Doesn’t he always make dinner on Tuesdays?”
She pointed the box of mac and cheese at me. “Exactly. But he made a point of saying it to me. That’s weird.”
Itwasweird. Total slipup on Noah’s part.
“You think you’d want me to tell you…” I said, guiding the shopping cart toward me. She narrowed her eyes, brandishing the box as if she might throw it at my head. “But if it was actually happening, you’d love being surprised.”
“Wrong. I hate surprises in every capacity and if Noah doesn’t understand that, maybe I shouldn’t marry him.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“What?” Her eyes bugged. “Are you serious? How can you be so blasé about me saying something like that. It’sNoah. He’s the love of my life. If I start talking like that, you need to run me down in the parking lot.”
I tilted my head, offering a wry smile, and her incredulous expression shifted into irritation. “I know you,” I said. “And Noah knows you. If he’s proposing, he’s not going to do it in a way you’ll hate.”
She bent to press her forehead against my shoulder. “I just want to know! I want to be engaged! I want a diamond on my finger, and I want to buy bride magazines instead of sneakily flipping through them on my lunch break,” she moaned, voice muffled. I wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on her head.
“You will. At some point.”
“Just tell me.”
“This conversation never happened.”
“Use ‘ketchup’ casually in a sentence if he’s proposing.”
I released her and drifted to the deli, biting my cheek to resist laughter. My best friend had dreamt about her wedding since childhood. I couldn’t relate, having spent most of my time exploring the creek behind my house with my dad in search of crawfish and salamanders—but it was a stereotype for a reason. Weddings are supposedly the most important day of our lives, and Arden yearned for it. Tonight, Noah would put it into motion.
I couldn’t have been happier for her. But that tiny, jagged piece of resentment drove its way through my rib cage, taunts of how far behind I’d fallen. A year ago, Shawn and I were talking about marriage. We looked at rings. Arden would send me photos from those magazines of dresses she thought I’d like. Every week we had a standing double date and while Noah and Shawn discussed their latest video game obsession, Arden and I would beam at each other because we’d found something that felt like a daydream. And now, my best friend’s life was flourishing while I couldn’t afford to buy spinach.
The three things my mind whispered to me now:Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.
It was harder than I would have liked to believe that it wasn’t pathetic for life to stagnate in response to grief. My brain had simply turned on me in the same way the universe had.
“Okay, how about this.” Arden caught up to me, blowing a piece of dark hair out of her face. “Not saying I’m getting engaged tonight, but should I wear my floral halter dress or the black mini?”
I considered this, pretending to study the slabs of meat beneath the glass counter. “You might want to think about the silky green dress,” I said. She inhaled sharply.
“Oh my god.”
“Because it’s so pretty.”
“Vi.”
“And it has that backless thing going on.”
“Did you help pick the ring? He has such bad taste in jewelry. Blink once if he made you pick the ring.”
I cackled and looped my arm through hers, dragging her along. She would die for the 1920s art deco style I’d directed Noah to. “I think it’s gonna be a great night.”
I blew seventy-five bucks on two bags of groceries, my Check Engine light pinged on the way home, and one of the bags split the moment I stepped into the apartment. So my night wouldn’t be as great as Arden’s.
I knelt to gather the mess, noting the silence. It had been three days since I’d gone back to Sequest, and Phoebe had slightly cheered up—she’d get home from school and make camp on the couch, music blasting. It was the first time in nine months things felt relatively okay. Not good, but maybe, possibly,on the way there. Now, though, an empty couch welcomed me and Phoebe’s bedroom door was wide open, lights out.
She wasn’t here.
