She tosses her head back as she laughs. “I wonder if Dr. Ruth is still alive.”
“She probably is. A healthy sex life keeps you young.” I shift in my seat to face her. “You know, I read an article the other day that said women live longer when they’re single.”
“So, you’re happy because you’ve got science backing you up now?”
I give her a triumphant nod. “Yup. Being in a relationship literally takes years off your life. It’s an actual scientific fact. But society keeps pushing us to be monogamous.”
Ivori leans back, and kicks off the porch to swing us again. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not choosing this alternative lifestyle because you’re allsmash the patriarchy. You’re no Samantha Jones.” She pats my knee. “You might be a Miranda in a lot of ways, but you’re a Carrie at heart.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Carrie wanted the fairy tale. She wanted to be swept off her feet by a rich asshole who treated her like shit. How am I anything like that?”
“You’ve been lying to yourself for quite some time. I don’t think you even know who you are at this point in your life.”
My mouth drops open. “Shit. Tell me how you really feel. Where is all this coming from?”
“It’s coming from your concerned best friend who has had to watch you build a great life, and tell yourself that it’s enough. But I know you, and I know it’s not enough. I just hope it’s not too late once you realize it.”
Her analysis stings. A best friend is like a mirror, and I can’t hide behind a façade when it comes to Ivori. She forces me to face my truth, no matter how ugly it might be.
I lift my chin. “What if my life is enough for me? What if it’s you who has the problem with it?”
“This isn’t the life you wanted.” She tosses it out so matter-of-factly. “Part of that reason has to do with someone whose name I’m not allowed to say, and the other part of it has to do with your parents passing, and I know you don’t like to talk about that either, but maybe it’s time you do.”
I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, mental and physical exhaustion setting in. “Girl, you were supposed to come over and make me laugh.”
“What am I, a fucking clown?” Ivori tosses a piece of popcorn at me from the bowl in her lap. “I’m your best friend, I gotta check in.”
“I appreciate you. But now you need to leave so I can wash up for bed and watchSchitt’s Creekwith my face mask on.”
“How many times have you watched that show?”
“It’s my emotional support TV show that helps me fall asleep.” I flip her off. “And it’s better than scrolling through feet pics.”
“I can’t help it if the algorithm sends me these weird videos!”
“You’re right, it’s the algorithm.”
A disgusted noise leaves the back of her throat as she stands with her wine and popcorn in each hand. “I don’t like your tone.”
I grin. “Love you, bitch.”
“Love you back, hoe.” Ivori lowers her voice. “I just want you to be happy with the decision you make, that’s all. I’d hate to see you sell this house if you truly want to keep it.”
The truth is, I don’t know what I want. Selling it makes me sad, but holding onto it means I’d have to spend a lot in repairs. I could spend my money on my own house, something much smaller than this, and let this part of my past go. I’ll have the memories regardless.
I have to make a decision, either way.
And I need to make it soon.
Chapter 8
Ainsley
End of Sophomore Year
My heart racesas my feet pound against the grass.
With two defenders on either side of me, fighting to catch up, I sprint downfield. The world goes silent around me; the crowd screaming in the stands; the opposing team yelling to one another; both of our coaches shouting. Everything fades away until the only thing left is the net in front of me.
