Page 73 of Touch of Class

“It does.” Gillian sighed. “I was talking to Daphne about how I wasn’t a great friend to you during that time and—”

Brooke held up a hand. “Hold on a second. There is so much to unpack in that statement.”

Gillian grinned and reached for the box of donuts. “I’ll give you the apple fritter if you overlook all of it and let me go on unchallenged.”

Brooke snagged the pastry. “How about I let you go on and then we circle back to your having a serious conversation with Daphne about things you haven’t even said to me?”

“Deal.” Gillian selected an old-fashioned sour cream donut for herself and forged on. “Anyway, I’m here to say some of those things now, because I feel like we aren’t as close as we used to be. Some of that’s because you’ve found the love of your life, and blah, blah, very happy for you, but also, we were slipping before then. I think it’s because I got so focused on being there for you at work that I stopped being there for you on this couch or on road trips or wing-womaning for you in social situations.”

Brooke smiled sweetly but didn’t interrupt.

“And for a long time, I told myself you should’ve called me the morning after you’d slept with Tegan, but even before I knew who she was, I may’ve tried to logic and reason and examine motivations instead of being a friend, and I hate that.”

“I’m not sure I do,” Brooke finally said. “Even if everything hadn’t gone off the rails that Monday morning, I would’ve eventually reached a point where I wanted those things, and you still would’ve been my go-to person.”

“But at some point, I would’ve also been the person beside you at the bar, saying ‘go after her.’ Or the person you called the next morning and laughed hysterically that you slept with a woman who drinks sorority drinks. Or the person who helped you hunt her down and win her over with grand gestures, or who at least kept a running commentary of witty responses and dry humor about robbing cradles and how you’re an overachiever for hitting your midlife crisis ahead of schedule.”

“I might’ve died,” Brooke admitted, then chuckled. “I might’ve also enjoyed having that side of you back, having us back.”

“Me too.” She took a second to let a bit of donut sweeten the hint of bitterness rising in her. “Instead, I became the person who quietly self-regulated myself right out of my best friend’s great romance. I focused on informed consent and ethics and professional mandates instead of the wonder of it all. I sat across from the woman my best friend fell into bed with and talked to her in a calm voice about clinical supervision instead of grilling her about her intentions.”

“What else could you have done?” Brooke asked. “What else could any of us have done? We had rules to follow and serious consequences to consider.”

“Fuck it all. You fell in love at first sight. That’s earthshaking, but I tried to remain totally stoic, which is dumb. Some things are worth being shaken over.”

“Sawyer and Robin would agree.”

She grimaced. “They had sex on my couch.”

Brooke laughed so loud she had to cover her mouth with her hands. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m over it, mostly. I mean, I’ve ordered a new couch, but, honestly, it’s crazier to me that I missed it all … again. I had no idea the two of them were a thing.”

“To be fair, none of us saw that coming, even them. They were so not relationship material. They didn’t even realize they were in a relationship until we told them!”

Gillian snorted. “Fair point. I just want it to get better.”

“How so?”

“I want to stop being careful with each other. I want to joke and laugh again. I want to talk, really talk, like we used to, some place other than my office, and about things other than work, because even when we talk about things technically not related to work, it still sometimes feels like … I don’t know.”

“Like I’m talking to my boss about something outside work.”

“Yes!” Gillian said, then licking a bit of melting sugar from her thumb, added, “I wanted to become the best boss, but not at the expense of being a best friend.”

Brooke extended her foot and softly kicked Gillian’s. “We’re on the same page. And it goes both ways. I don’t want you talking to an employee or even a colleague when we’re on my couch. For that matter, I still want you on my couch a lot more often than you are.”

“But Tegan’s here and—”

“And nothing. I want both of you here. It’s not you or her. I want to be allowed to have a wife and a best friend at the same time.”

“Sounds totally reasonable when you put it that way and … did you say ‘wife’?”

Brooke’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, and she popped the last two bites of donut into her mouth at once.

“You did!” Gillian pointed at her. “You were talking about Tegan, the woman who you got tipsy on strawberry daiquiris and took to bed and pretended you weren’t obsessed with for months, and then slept with again—”

“I’m not enjoying this summary.”