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“And you’re quite a dick. At least, you’re being one right now. What’s your problem?”
“Nothing,” he said. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle rejection.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, it’s not my fault you can’t handle rejection.”
“I have no problem with rejection,” I snapped. “Right now, I do have a problem with you, though. You’re acting weird. That means you’re scared. That’s all there is to it.”
“You’re being irrational,” he said. “We just had amazing sex, we’re trying to enjoy a meal together, and you’re talking about going back to the States and keeping things going between us. We clearly agreed that wouldn’t happen. It’s not good for us, and it’s not good for Emilia either. Whether you like it or not, Summer, we’re family.”
“Ew.”
“You know what I fucking mean,” he said. “That’s how my sister sees it. You’re her best friend. You’re basically her sister. She would be heartbroken if she found out about this. It’s not right to carry on behind her back.”
I got up, dropping fries to the plate. “I think I’m done.”
“With what? Your meal?”
“Yes. This. Everything.” I walked to the door and opened it then turned back to glare at him as he sat on the sofa. “I’m done with lying to myself. OK, clearly we’re insanely attracted to each other or we wouldn’t—”
“Summer.”
“—let me finish. We can’t keep our hands off each other. The sex is amazing. And you’re telling me that—”
“What did you just say?” The soft woman’s voice had come from behind me.
My stomach sank, and Matt’s wide-eyed look made sense now. He rose from the sofa, staring at a spot behind my left shoulder.
Oh god. Oh fuck. This isn’t happening.
I turned, slowly, dreading what I was about to see.
Emilia stood in front of her brother’s room, her hand still raised as if she’d been about to knock, and her jaw dropped. Her eyes fluttered. “What did you just say, Summer?” she asked.
“Emmy,” I said. “It’s nothing serious, OK? Matt and I were just—”
“Having sex?”
“No,” I said. “I mean, yeah. I guess. But it’s not anything serious. It’s not like we’re staying together or something. It’s not anything. I was just leaving, OK?”
Emilia shook her head. “I don’t believe this. I don’t believe this.” She shook her head. “And during my wedding week? This is—” My best friend grew pale, she raised her hand, her lips pursed. “Just—wow. Wow.” She turned to leave.
“Emmy, wait.” I ran down the corridor after her, my bare feet scraping on the carpet. I nearly fell and caught myself.
She reached the elevator and pounded on the buttons frantically. “Open, open, open,” Emilia growled.
“Emmy!” I finally caught up to her. “Emmy, wait. Can I at least explain?”
“I heard everything I needed to,” she replied, betrayal etched all over her face. She brushed her dark hair back from eyes that were hard with pain. “You promised me, Summer.”
“What?”
“When we were in high school, you promised me that you would never get with my brother. You promised me.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Emmy said, shaking her head. “Even if you don’t remember, you had to know that I wouldn’t be happy about this.”
“Emilia. It’s not something we planned. It just happened.”
“How long has this been going on?” she asked.
The elevator doors slid open behind her. The inside was empty, and she stepped into it.
“How long, Summer?” She hadn’t hit any of the buttons yet.
“It was just while we were here.”
“All the time?”
“I mean, some of it. I—”
Emilia punched a button on the pad inside the elevator. “I want you to leave.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you at the wedding. I want you to leave, Summer. I’ll pay you for the dance lessons, but I just…I can’t have you there, OK? It just won’t feel right.” The doors slid shut on her teary-eyed expression.
My reflection stared back at me. Just like that, I’d messed everything up.
Matt walked up next to me, but he didn’t say a word. We didn’t touch. What could we possibly talk about now? We’d fucked up. This was over.
And I’d just lost my best friend because of it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Summer
I let myself into my tiny apartment two days later, smelling like the airport and with a breaking heart. I was home. Home in Miami, Florida, without any prospects. Actually, I was in a worse position now than I’d been in when I’d first headed out to the Bahamas for the wedding.
I’d lost Emmy. I’d gotten involved with Matt. And I was no closer to achieving my goals than at the start of my little “vacation.”
I kicked the door closed and squeezed my eyes shut, too, blocking hot tears, and the view of my worn sofa, the shabby curtains that I couldn’t afford to replace.
Today was Valentine’s Day. My best friend was marrying the man of her dreams, and I wasn’t there. Of course I wasn’t. I’d betrayed her.
