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“Okay, so when are we doing this?”
Andy’s mouth spread into a grin. He slumped forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing in on mine. “How’s tomorrow work for you?”
“Tomorrow?” I repeated, laughing. I shouldn’t have been surprised: springing something like this on me last-minute was a very Andy thing to do.
“Yeah, sorry about the short notice, but it’s not like I’m spoiled for time.” He smirked, his eyes sparkling at me.
I sighed and shook my head. Always making a joke, even when it came to his own life and death. Has he even considered the fact that he was dying in a serious light? I immediately felt bad. Could I be any more condescending?
“Whatever you want, man. I figure you have a plan for your parents?”
Andy laughed. “Dad will be away at work. You’ll be picking Em and I up at four. Mom takes some pretty heavy sleeping pills at night, so she won’t hear a thing.”
“And if she does?” I smirked, raising my eyebrows.
“She won’t,” he replied, confident.
“She’s going to kill you. You know that, right?”
“I’ll be dead. It’s you she’s going to kill.” He chuckled. Yeah, he could joke about it, but that’s exactly what she was going to do.
***
I walked into my bedroom and pulled out my suitcase from the top shelf of my closet. With no idea where we were going or for how long, I packed enough to last me a couple of weeks.
Zipping it shut, I threw it on the floor and walked out into the kitchen. Fuck. I ran my hands through my hair, my fingers massaging the back of my neck. What else did I need to do? And what the hell was I going to tell work?
The easiest thing to do was just to call in sick and hope it didn’t ruin my chances for the promotion I was up for next month. Hell, even if it did . . . who cared? This was probably my last chance to spend time with my best friend. They could fire me for all I cared. I could get another job; I’d never find another Andy.
I leaned over the kitchen counter, cradling my head in my hands. Life wasn’t fair. He was only twenty-six, and he was dying. There were so many healthy assholes in the world, and he was going to be dead in a month.
How the hell was Andy so relaxed about everything? I was an absolute wreck, and Emily . . .
Sighing, I rubbed my forehead. This was going to be painful.
Emily. I avoided situations that had me in close proximity to her alone for long periods of time, because the more time I spent with her, the harder it became to ignore my feelings.
I hated the situation I was in. I felt trapped, backed into a corner I’d never be able to escape from. Emily and I could never work. Even after he was gone, I would be too much of a reminder of what she’d lost. I laughed bitterly. Who even thinks like that? What kind of asshole was I? The kind who has been in love with his best friend’s girl for over fourteen years.
My phone vibrated. I picked it up, expecting Andy. It wasn’t.
“Seth?”
My throat closed over as her sweet voice drifted through the speaker. The sound of her voice, her name, her loyalty to Andy . . . everything about Em, I loved. Every day was a struggle to pretend things were normal, when they weren’t.
“Are you there?”
“Yeah, sorry. Em, how are you?” I said, cringing at how foolish I sounded. I’d had no problem masking my feelings for the last fourteen years; why was it so hard all of a sudden?
“Good. I just wanted to check things were all good for tomorrow,” she asked. She sounded tired. Stressed. “I’m assuming he spoke to you?”
“Yeah.” I hesitated, not sure whether to say what was on my mind. “Do you think it’s a good idea? I mean, he’s really sick. And you know Deb is gonna freak out,” I added, referring to his mom. Deb was like a second mother to me, and the thought of robbing her of her last days with her son made me feel sick.
“It’s what he wants,” Em said. Her voice was so soft I barely heard her.
And just like that, I was back to feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. Andy deserved to decide for himself how he wanted to spend his last few weeks. If that meant working extra hard on pushing my feelings aside, then I’d do it. I’d do anything for him. And I knew Emily would, too.
“You’re right,” I muttered. “Okay, let’s do this. I’ll be at his mom’s place at four.”
