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“That doesn’t give you the right to escape answering to what the hell is going on.” Chris lowers his voice. “You’re really married to the managing partner of W&S, who happens to be your dad’s closest friend, WHILE your father is in a coma?”
She grimaces. “Sort of.”
“What does “sort of” mean? No?”
“We are married, but it’s not what you think. I just…it’s just for convenience.”
“But isn’t he twice your age?”
“He’s not twice my age, he’s only eighteen years older than me.”
“Which is two years away from being twice your age, Gwen.”
She shifts, her gaze getting somber, and the colors in her eyes clash into an undecipherable mix.
“Are you happy?” I ask.
“That’s not what you should be asking her, Jane. You should make her explain.”
“Why would she? They’re both adults and Nathaniel doesn’t seem like the type who’d make impulsive decisions, so it must’ve been for a good reason.”
“It was.” Gwen’s voice trembles. “Do you think this is all okay? Me married to Nate, I mean. His mother dropped by yesterday and she made me feel shitty by bringing up the outside world. Why can’t it be just me and him? And yeah, I know he’s Dad’s best friend-slash-partner and almost twice my age, and when I was eighteen and kissed him, he was twice my age, but—”
“Wait,” Chris interrupts. “You kissed him when you were eighteen?”
“I did and I don’t regret it, okay?” She focuses back on me as if I’m her safe haven. “Do you think my feelings for him are weird?
“I don’t really have the right to judge and neither does Chris.” I glare at him, then smile at her. “It’s your life so live it as you wish.”
“Thanks.” She abandons her tight hold on the milkshake and takes my hand in hers. “I’m so glad you at least understand.”
“But I don’t.” Chris rolls his eyes. “You have to admit the whole thing is off. I can’t imagine you married to Nate.”
“Why not?” She purses her lips.
“Because he’s so strict and no-nonsense and you’re…well…talkative and active and many other things that he isn’t.”
“I also think it’s a very unlikely pairing.”
“Jane.” She releases my hand and hits my shoulder. “I thought you were on my side.”
“Even Jane can’t ignore the facts,” Chris teases. “Do you drive him insane with all the talking?”
“Screw you, okay? He’s never complained about that.”
“He probably will soon.”
I laugh as they go at each other’s throats and bicker. It feels light, nice, normal.
And I have no clue why that makes my stomach drop with each passing second.
In the back of my mind, I know people like me aren’t allowed to have this kind of ordinary life, or happiness, or anything that doesn’t include a conflict.
Yes, I ran away, but that doesn’t mean they won’t chase me. Hurt me—orBabushka.
Or the people I’ve started to care about despite vowing to stay alone. Despite my efforts and the walls I’ve built around me.
And because I’ve been having these small bursts of anxiety since this morning, I’ve been manically checking onBabushkaand making sure she’s okay.
