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I’m frozen in the hallway for a few moments, wondering if I should disappear into my room or attempt to intervene. Old Sophie would have disappeared for sure. But now . . .
“What have you sacrificed, Josh?” Tabby’s saying, sounding unlike I’ve ever heard her. Her tone of voice—the frantic desperation in it—cuts at something deep inside me.
“You think I haven’t sacrificed anything?” Josh says. “I haven’t exactly had a normal high school life either. I can always tell when someone’s been talking about me. The room goes quiet as soon as I walk into it. You know how often that happens, Tab? Every single day.”
Tabby scoffs. “I’m sorry being in school is so hard for you.”
“You’re the one who decided online classes were the better choice so you could have a more flexible schedule.”
They don’t fight like this. They never fight like this. Of course I didn’t assume their relationship was perfect, but I never imagined either of them had lungs like this. I glance between the darkened staircase and the scene in the kitchen.
“And have you ever heard me complain?”
A squeaky floorboard makes my decision for me. Tabby’s and Josh’s heads whip my way.
“Sophie,” Tabby says, and as I inch closer, I notice how red her face is. “We didn’t hear you.”
“Sorry. I just got back. Where are Mom and Dad?”
“Out with Peter’s parents,” Tabby says.
“I’m going to take a walk.” Josh breezes right by me into the hallway, where he grabs his coat. “I gotta cool down.”
“We’re not done here.” Tabby stalks toward him, Luna still crying. “Josh. Josh. Don’t you dare leave right now.”
It’s only then, with Josh on his way out the door, that reality dawns: They could break up. Though I complain about Josh being here all the time, he’s become as much a fixture in my life as Luna.
“Sophie,” Tabby says, halfway into her own coat. “Can you put Luna to bed? I have to go talk to him.”
“Yeah,” I say, though I’m frozen in the kitchen. “Go. Go. Do what you need to do.”
The front door slams once, twice, and then I’m left with my niece again. I make myself spring to life because this small human needs me.
“Hey, baby girl,” I say, slightly more at ease with her now. When I told Tabby that Luna had eaten a piece of chalk, she was much calmer than I expected. She said I did exactly what she would have done, that it could have happened to anyone, and to call her next time. I take Luna upstairs to her room, where we read her favorite book over and over. My parents come home, but Tabby and Josh don’t. I rock her for a while and then gently lay her in her crib and turn on the baby monitor, which I take into my room.
My phone lights up with an event invite as I collapse into bed. Montana’s having a dance team sleepover next weekend—on the same night as Peter’s band’s first show.
It hits me hard that I’d much rather go to Montana’s.
If I went to the party, would Peter be upset I missed his first show? He’ll have other shows, right? And . . . it’s not like he’d be able to see me in the audience. I can barely pick people out of a crowd when I’m performing.
I’ve got to figure out how to stop this. How to fall out of love with him, how to unbind us when what I’ve done has connected us for years to come. Because this is what part of me, an awful part, still hopes: that if I give him enough time, Peter will realize I’m worth a relationship, worth giving a chance. That he barely knows Chase and I am the one who’s always been here for him. That the connection to him I feel, the one that vibrates beneath my skin when he’s near me, isn’t one-sided.
And I can’t put that sliver of a chance in jeopardy.
There’s no real choice to make. Peter comes first. That’s how it’s always been.
Peter is running toward the things he loves. I’m not sure why it sometimes feels like I’m running away from mine.
As I hit NO on the RSVP to Montana’s sleepover, I lie back down on my bed. It takes a lot of energy to love someone this much without being loved back the way you want. It drains you.
I have never felt quite this drained before.
I’m putting on pajamas when I hear the front door open and shut, followed by footsteps coming up the stairs. Then there are the soft sounds of Tabby crying as she checks on her baby across the hall, then turns to face my door.
I’ve already opened it for her.
“Hey,” she says, her voice cracking the word in two. “Can I—”
