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Bee is silent for a moment, her breathing coming in soft puffs against my neck. By the way her mouth is shifting through the thin layer of my shirt, she’s gearing up to say something.
“You need to see if your mom is right. Maybe if you see the way he’s changed, it’ll show you how different you really are. I-I know you might not want to forgive him, and honestly, I wouldn’t blame you, but I don’t think you need to be afraid of him, whether he’s the same or not. You’re a good man. You don’t need to see him to prove it, but I think maybe you need to so you’ll believe it.”
I think she’s right.
“Okay.”
“Okay, you’ll meet with him?”
“Only if you’ll come with me.” I need her there. I know that for certain.
She rises up, gaze darting over my face, looking for something. Whatever it is, I’m only looking at her. The freckle under her eye, the fine lines that gather between her brows when she’s concentrating, percolating on a problem, or, even more likely, fighting the itch to dust something.
She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. A thousand square feet of punch packed into a five-foot-twohourglass. God, she doesn’t even recognize the way people are drawn to her, how her unassuming smile lures people in, makes them feel safe, while her curious mind makes them feel like the only person in the room.
She’s a goddamn treasure, and she’s hiding herself away.
But I see her.
“Of course I’ll come with you.”
Christ, she’s incredible.
There’ll never be anyone like her for me. Not ever again.
Bee leans into my touch as I cup her cheek. “Do you have any good memories of him?”
Ignoring the question, I pull her in, kissing her, tasting her sweetness. “Are you sure this is what you want to talk about right now?”
She shifts, letting out the softest sigh. One I can feel under my palms as I hold her.
“What do you need?” Bee whispers.
Everything. But asking for it might be the hardest thing I’ve done. Second only to accepting that she might leave someday. Bee isn’t someone who feels things lightly, so I know I’m not alone in this, but how far does it reach? Because for the first time in my life, I can see my future in perfect clarity, and it’s her.
“You. Just you.”
32
BEE
I’ve never brokenup with a friend before.
I don’t know if I can pinpoint the moment we stopped relating to each other. Where drinking became the reason we hung out, rather than an optional activity. Maybe it was around the time I started ignoring Morgan’s backhanded compliments.
Bar after bar, drink after drink. I wonder if I’m only remembering the moments outside of these because we didn’t photograph them, as though my memory held tighter knowing it would be lost otherwise. Or, more likely, it held tighter because those moments were few and far between. Mornings, breakfasts at places where they didn’t serve mimosas, lunches that didn’t lead to cocktails, dinners that didn’t end with shots.
Bee: I can come over, but I won’t drink. Still not feeling like it at the moment, but happy to watch movies and chat.
Morgan: I can’t drink alone…
Morgan: its all good, enjoy your day, we can catch up next week
I should apologize. I’ve been good this long. What’s a few drinks? I know Sebastian wouldn’t judge me.
Except I enjoy not drinking. The thought of losing my tongue and waking up nauseous and sad tomorrow is not appealing. Ever since I quit, I feel amazing. I’m sleeping better, waking up early, and even on the days I don’t move from our—admittedly amazing—couch, I feel cozy and content.
Happy, I realize.
