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My chest constricts and I rub at my eyebrow. “Nobody could’ve done anything to change my mind about drinking at that point. It was my go-to solution for everything. Fail a test, drink it up. Rejected by a girl, binge drink all night. Wash, rinse, repeat. I was the only one who could decide to stop. Not you, not my friends, not even Scarlett.”
I steeple my sweaty hands in front of my face. “By the time I got arrested, I had hit rock bottom. Theo was the closest thing to my saving grace. I didn’t want to be a bad dad before he was even born. Scarlett being there for me, never judging, helped save me, too. You didn’t fail me. I did that all on my own.”
Preston stares long and hard at me, chewing on his bottom lip. “I’ll be completely transparent.” He blows out a heavy breath. “The idea of you and Scarlett—used to bug me. The bond you guys have, we didn’t have that—her and I. And the notion that you two could bond over having a child and start a relationship may have at one time turned my stomach because of the whole situation. But I’m happy now with Savy and the kids. They’re my entire world.”
“Scar and I are just friends.” My voice pitches low. Even after he spills his guts, I still deny my feelings out loud. The threat of him rejecting me hangs high in the air.
“Just friends?” He shoves his hands into his dress pant pockets and quirks an eyebrow.
It’s finally too much, and I throw up my hands. “What do you want me to say? That I’m fucking jealous she’s going on a date with someone who will probably end up being her dream man while I’m here, as the best friendwith these—these feelings I can’t act on?”
He cocks his head, not even fazed by my ferocity. “Who says you can’t act on them? You’re way too far into your head on this.”
“How am I too far into my head, P? I got your fiancée pregnant because I was a drunk fuck-up. You didn’t talk to me for seven years and I’m supposed to be cavalier about it all and pursue her? I rearranged her damn life. There is too much at stake.”
“So, you’re just going to torture yourself for the next fifty years? You’ve punished yourself long enough. I’m saying it’s okay. I’m giving you explicit permission to chase her. Not that you need my permission, but throw your own damn hat in the ring. Do not let me hold you back from a life with her if you both want it. Loving someone you see every day but can’t have sounds like a shitty way to live.”
“Who says I love her?” My last attempt to keep it all to myself dwindles away when I look at his nonplussed face.
“I can read your mug like a book. Come on, don’t lie to me.”
I sigh, rolling back in my chair and run my hands down my face.
“How long?” he asks.
“Eight years.”
Preston nods before cringing. “That’s a long time to be in the friend zone.”
“No shit, Sherlock, you’re telling me. I can’t make her have feelings for me in return. I’m probably doomed to always be in the friend zone.”
“What if you’re not?” he implores.
I shake my head. “Our friendship means too much to me. We have Theo. What if I fuck it up and then screw up the one good thing we have? That’s an enormous risk.”
He shrugs and walks up to my desk, placing two fingers on the corner, forcing me to look up at him. “Then you have to ask yourself if you can live with that choice. I’m here to tell you that the bros before hoes rule doesn’t apply to us. I won’t get in the way of your happiness and if it’s with her, then I refuse to have that grudge over my head anymore. Life is too damn short and you know it.”
I grunt out a half-hearted thanks. He and everybody else makes it seem so simple, but it’s not.
Rapping my desk with his knuckles, he strides out the door, leaving me reeling and even more unsure about the future. My fingers slide and tap out nonsense because my brain is too fried to code out anything substantial.
It’s not until a waft of vanilla and sticky sweet candy clouds in front of me that I realize I’m not alone. Working with your friends has its perks, but today I wished I worked from home.
“Is the vending machine not working again? I swear to God, Savy, I will give you the number to the maintenance man because I do not have time for this,” I groan out eying my meddling friend gaping at me in her work attire—athletic pants and SoS T-shirt, the mountain logo splashed across the front.
She narrows her eyes and folds her fists on her hips. “His name is Randy, and I did not come up here to badger you about the silly machine. Oof, you’re grouchy.”
“Sorry. Just stressed.” Standing, I move around to the front of my desk and perch on the corner, rubbing the tight muscle in my neck.
“Well, I won’t add anymore to your plate. Just wanted to see how your speed-dating went.”
I pause mid-massage and pin her with an unamused stare. “How do you think it went?”
“Never mind. Pretend I didn’t even come up here.”
“No, no, you don’t get out of here that easily. You wanted us both there at the same time. Don’t fib to me about coincidence, blah blah blah.”
“I never fibbed. You just never asked.” She shrugs, a smirk plastered on her cherub face.
