The corner of her mouth lifts.
“But I’m glad you did.”
She’s right. I never talk about what’s bothering me.
Ever.
“I don’t want to burden you all with my problems.”
“Piper, that’s precisely what friends are for,” she says. “And for the record, you’ve never been a burden to any of us.”
I shake my head.
But I don’t argue.
She looks around the room.
“It doesn’t exactly look as though he’s given up on you.”
She gestures vaguely towards the flowers, the books, and the mountain of deliveries around my dorm.
“That’s the problem.”
“How is that a problem?”
“Because he should have.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve already told you. He can’t give me what I want.”
“Love is vastly overrated, if you ask me.”
I burst out laughing.
I can’t help it.
But then the laughter turns into tears, and before I know it, I’m doing both at the same time like a complete lunatic.
I think I’ve finally lost my mind.
Adelaide waits until I’ve finished my breakdown.
“In all seriousness, I think he loves you.”
“Don’t. Hunter doesn’t do love.”
“The man is emotionally defective. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.” She shrugs.
I stare at her.
“I think, in his own twisted way, he does. He just doesn’t realise that’s what peasants like you call love.”
I smile, and Adelaide returns it.
“It’s fine, I’ve made my peace with it.”
“Liar.”
