Page 62 of The Breakup Artists

August joins me on the couch. “Not much I didn’t tell you. Things are good in the friend department—”

“Trust?”

“Yeah, I’d definitely say we’re getting there,” he replies.

“Great. Keep planting those seeds about Justin trying to influence her decisions. And maybe it’s time to work on inspiring her a bit—you know, get her feeling like there’s more out there than Justin and his controlling crap? Get her excited about her dreams again?”

“Already on it,” he says, looking a little glum. “I’m teaching her to paint today.”

My brain short-circuits. “Wait,what?”

He attempts a shrug but winds up looking uncomfortable. “Made sense with the whole paint-splattered-shirt thing,” he says like my shock was even remotely about his strategy and not about the idea of painting itself.

“Wow.” For a split second I get inexplicably annoyed. He doesn’t paint for two whole years and suddenly he’s teaching Ella? I know we built it into his character, but I never thought in a million years he’d do anything other than wield it as a cool personality trait.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, which we both know is absolutely false.

“Au contraire,” I reply, trying to push past my reaction and embrace the fact that he’s taking a huge step forward. “I’m excited for you. What made you decide to take the plunge?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ella?” I offer.

He pauses. “I don’t know,” he says again and scratches his shoulder under his T-shirt sleeve. “I guess she does have this weird way of challenging me.”

And suddenly I don’t like Ella at all.Shechallenges him? What have I been doing these past couple years? Oh, right, buildingan entire businessto give him resolution. Besides, the last time IchallengedAugust to paint, he didn’t talk to me for two days.

“You okay?” he says, and I realize I’m scowling.

I unclench my jaw.Stop being a crap friend, Tiny. This isn’t about you.“Just got lost in thought a second. How can I help? What do you need?” I say, but he’s looking out the window like he might jump in the water and hide under the dock. And in that moment my whole perspective shifts. This isn’t about Ella or me or any of the rest of it.

“Just need to borrow the Jeep.”

“Are you sure? Should you bring something with you?” I say, wanting to erase that worried look from his brows. “I mean, if she thinks you’re a painter, don’t you think she’d expect you to show up with a favorite brush or something?”

“I told her I haven’t painted since Des.”

But with that one sentence I’m right back to being the jealous friend. And because I know I can’t let it show on my face, I scream in my head,Ahhh! I will Hulk smash you, August Mariani!Then I take a breath and recenter. “You’re really honest with this girl.”

“A little,” he concedes.

“Do you think it’ll interfere with the case?” I reply, which I recognize is both a real concern and maybe not the most supportive thing I could say.

His eyebrows push farther together. “I mean, I don’t think so. I hope not.”

“Look, don’t worry about it. We’re good at this, right?” I say, pulling it back.

“Yeah, right, definitely,” he says and looks away. “I should probably get going.”

I pull my keys from my purse and he takes them, wasting no time in heading for the door.

The instant he’s gone, I lie back down on the couch with a plop. We’re on the same team; we’re working toward the same result, I remind myself. Being annoyed is dumb. But why does being the bigger person always feel like a kick to the nuts?

I pick up my phone and open my texts with Bentley, looking for a distraction.

Me

Want to come over after you’re done with the twins?