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I wanted independence. I wanted a partner who wanted that too.

It was one thing to lean on family while you got your legs under you, while you saved, or paid off bills, or went to school—or waited to take over the family business that you said you were going to take over. But if Mike wasn’t doing any of those things, then what was he doing? Just… living at his mom’s? At thirty years old? Working fifteen hours a week?

I didn’t like this. At all. It reminded me too much of Dad. The way he was always barely employed, Mom having to be the breadwinner and us always struggling.

And there was another thing.

It wasn’t just Lexi I didn’t tell about moving in with Mike. I also hadn’t told Chris.

Part of my reasoning was I figured Mike would tell him, and I hadn’t seen Chris much lately. But it was more than that.

Talking about Mike with Chris just felt… wrong. I couldn’t explain it. It just did. We never talked about Mike. Ever. Maybe because they were best friends and I felt like Chris wouldn’t like to know something he might feel like he had to tell him? Or maybe I wanted to respect Mike’s privacy and not talk about him to the person who’s closest to him. Let him tell his best friend his own stuff, when he felt like it. I just didn’t want to put Chris in a position. He probably didn’t want to put me in a position. We just wanted to keep our friendship compartmentalized. That’s all.

But it didn’t feel like that was all.

If I was being really honest with myself, I didn’t tell Chris for the same reason I didn’t tell Lexi. Because he’d be disappointed by it—which was absolutely ridiculous.

Why would Chris be disappointed if I moved in with my boyfriend, his best friend? He would be happy for us. Mike’s place was closer to his, so it would be easier to swap Woofarine. Chris would come over all the time—it was going to be amazing.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling I was doing something wrong. Making the wrong choice. I don’t know why. And I hadn’t told Lexi because I didn’t want her chiming in and reinforcing the uncertainty I was already grappling with.

If living with Mike didn’t work, I could find somewhere else. Moving in was the next step in our relationship, it made sense.

So why when I think of living with Mike do I only think of Chris?

30

CHRIS

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It was 3:03 in the morning. I woke up a half hour ago and couldn’t go back to sleep. This time it wasn’t nightmares.

Winter had started early this year. It had snowed half a dozen times already and last night we got dumped on again. Six inches of heavy, wet snow. Larissa’s building didn’t have covered parking, and her car was probably buried.

Each time this had happened over the last four weeks, I went through the same thought process: Mike will dig her out. I don’t have to worry about it. It’s not my problem, it’s not my job. He’ll remember this time.

Only he never did.

The first time she mentioned that she’d had to shovel out her car, I thought it was a one-off. I teased Mike about it the next day, hoping he’d get the hint. That night we got three more inches, and he didn’t go then either.

It takes her an hour to dig herself out before work, and she has to do it at five o’clock in the morning in the pitch black. Larissa’s neighborhood isn’t that great. He should be picking her up and driving her to work in the truck. It’s safer than her car until the roads get plowed. He should bring her coffee. She liked those sugar cookie lattes they had this time of year. Then after he dropped her off, he should go dig out her car. That’s what I would have done.

He’d probably do that today. We’d gotten too much snow for him to forget again—at least half a foot. Maybe the other times it wasn’t enough for him to make the trip across town?

He’s going to come. I should go back to sleep.

I couldn’t go back to sleep.

Maybe I should text him and remind him that his girlfriend’s car needs to be cleared off?

Great. And then I could explain why I’m up at 3:00 in the morning thinking about his girlfriend’s car. Perfect.

I could send a Damn, we got dumped on text to the group chat and hope he sees it. Wake everyone else up but Mike because never in the history of my best friend has a text or call actually woken him. He could sleep through a tornado siren.

I stared out into the darkness. Fuck.

I flung off the blankets and went to put on snow pants.

I’d just drive by and hopefully I’d see Mike already out there shoveling, and he wouldn’t see me and then I’d just keep driving and come home and go back to bed.