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I look at Amy through blurry eyes and tell her about the weekend, all the details, leaving out nothing. From sharing a bed, to the PDAs, to the drunken bachelorette party, all the way through to the dance floor kiss.
“You kissed?” she squeals, caught up in the excitement.
“We kissed,” I confirm with a half smile. “And it was perfect. The most mind-blowing kiss of my life. And then we kissed some more.”
“So how did you go from mind-blowing kisses to crying on your couch?”
“It was all going so well. We were moving towards something. Oliver drove us back to your place to spend the evening together and talk, and I thought we were on the same page. And then we get to your house, and…” I trail off.
“Emma,” Amy fills in the rest.
“Emma,” I repeat. “As soon as he saw her, he dropped my hand like it was burning him. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
“What do you mean?” Amy asks.
“He moved away from me, towards her. Like he was trying to cover for the fact that we were holding hands. Like he didn’t want her to see us together. And in that moment, I just knew…” I trail off again.
“What, what did you know?”
“That he is not over her. That what we had this weekend is not real. That I am not good enough for him,” I tell her, tears now streaming down my face.
Amy looks at me, tears filling her eyes as well.
“I’m sorry he did that to you, and that it made you feel that way,” she starts. “But have you given any thought to the idea that maybe things aren’t exactly as they seem?”
“It all seemed pretty clear to me,” I say, feeling so miserable.
Amy looks at me and takes my hand. “Lilly, you know I love you, and when it comes to this, I am always on your side?” I nod, encouraging her to continue. “But I think a lot of the way you have reacted to this situation is coming from your own insecurities.” As I wince at this, I look away from Amy, thinking about what she is saying.
“Let’s look at the situation: Oliver spent the whole weekend all over you. You shared several very hot kisses.” I blush as she says this. “And then you have an awkward moment when you get home, where Oliver does not react exactly the way you would want him to. And now you think you never had a chance with him. That you aren’t worthy. Lilly, that is not a healthy way to approach a relationship,” she finishes, taking a gulp of her wine.
After staring at Amy for a long while, pondering what she has said, I am not sure I can agree with her. I saw the way Oliver looked at Emma. He looked like he needed to get to her to what? Reassure her he wasn’t with me? That they still had a chance to be together? And then the way he dropped my hand and left me to go to her. I just can’t move past the rejection of it all. I tell this to Amy, who nods in agreement.
“You don’t have to get over this right now. Just promise me you will think about what I have said. That when emotions are not running so high, you will give Oliver a chance to tell his side of the story. And that you will look deeper into why someone as amazing as you seems to think you are not good enough.”
“OK, Ames. I will think about it, but it is hard not to think the problem is me when it keeps happening to me. And why would someone as amazing as Oliver want to be with me when he can be with the super successful, super polished Emma? Even my own parents don’t think I’m anything special.”
At this, Amy pulls me into a big hug. “Lilly, that is absolutely not true. Your parents just don’t understand you; it doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”
I stare at the face of my best friend, knowing she sees me in a way most people do not, and attempt a small smile.
“It’s true,” Amy continues. “You need to speak to your parents, let them know they make you feel this way.”
“I don’t think I can,” I say, thinking about how terrible that conversation would be. How non-receptive my parents would be to my thoughts on the matter. “I have always been a disappointment to them. See how they love talking to you about work? They understand you. You speak the same language. You are the daughter they wish I could be.”
Amy watches me, her eyes sad, not having a response to this, while I have another cupcake and feel even more sorry for myself. Now I’m feeling unloved by both Oliver and my parents. Terrible day to be me.
“Do you want me to stay here with you tonight?” Amy asks, changing the subject. “I don’t fancy going home and seeing either Oliver or Emma right now, anyway.”
As I think about the fact that Oliver and Emma may be together right now, the dried-up tears start again, and I sink lower into the couch.
“Yes, please. And let’s not talk about men, or parents, or anything else of substance. Let’s find a show on Netflix and binge until I fall asleep.”
“Deal. You pick a show, and I’ll get some reinforcements,” Amy says, going into the kitchen to get more snacks.
I pick up my phone, turning it on silent so I am not tempted to listen out for calls or texts from Oliver, and turn on the new season of Top Chef. As Amy sits down next to me, I give her a small, gratitude-filled hug and settle in for an evening of mind-numbing reality TV goodness. And attempt to not think about Oliver for the rest of the night.
CHAPTER 32
