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Wait. No. He’s got it all wrong.
“Neither of us fell in love. Why would you think that? We both just changed.”
Dax pushes up, propping his upper body up with his forearms. “I don’t know, Gemma. I’ve had a few close female friends over the years, and it’s always ended the same way. One falls for the other, and we try the couple thing, or the friendship sort of fades out when the one in love finally realizes it’s always going to be…unrequited.”
“You’re wrong.”
He is.
And I hate the fact that I can’t give my best evidence to the contrary.
His eyes narrow a little. “And you never thought of this guy as more than a friend?”
It’s such a complex question. Maybe? Briefly. Right in the beginning. But then Stuart happened, and things between us changed. Besides, that’s not the point.
“Nope. Thoughts were always platonic.”
It’s the truth, but it feels wrong as I say it. However, Dax rolls onto his back again. The argument’s been won. The silence is back, and it’s comfortable again. And just when I think we’re back to the place we were meant to be, he draws a deep breath. “Well, then I guess he was the one who was in love with you.”
Chapter 13
The water stainon the ceiling above my bed looks like theMona Lisa.Same chilled-out attitude. Same relaxed smile. Like her biggest burden is deciding what she’s going to eat for lunch that day, not figuring out whether her best friend in the entire world has been secretly in love with her for the last four years of her life.
To say that I’ve been thinking about Dax’s revelation on the roof last night is an understatement. I’ve been obsessing. His lazy, laid-back smile infiltrated my dreams all night. Making me question his motives. My motives. And every decision I’ve made for the last four years.
Eventually, I summon the energy to roll out of bed, throw on a presentable pair of sweatpants, and head out into the way-too-bright-for-this-early-on-a-Saturday-morning sun.
There is no debate between tequila or doughnuts this morning as I walk down James Street. Mostly because the liquor store doesn’t open until ten and I’m mildly hungover from last night’s party.
“Half a dozen fritters, please,” I tell the cashier at Nana’s,then, after an uncharacteristic moment of spontaneity, rethink my order. “Actually, on second thought, make that half a dozen of whatever you recommend.”
I have no idea what has gotten into me. Maybe my sister has rubbed off on me after all these years, or maybe there is something in this reality that has knocked me off-kilter.
After I pay for my doughnuts, I head over to meet my aunt at her bookshop. She had a huge donation this week from the estate of a former customer. She asked Kierst and me if we could come over and help her weed through and catalog the new books. Since I have a part-time employee who helps out at Wilde Beauty on Saturdays and my sister’s kids swim at the YMCA, we agreed to meet my aunt at the ungodly hour of eight.
“Morning.” I push open the front door to my aunt’s apartment and find both my aunt and sister already sitting on the floor with a stack of books between them and a tray of Brewski’s coffees still in the recycled paper tray.
“You read my mind.” I nod at the cup with my name on it. “I only had time for one stop and chose doughnuts, secretly hoping you’d get my telepathic messages. I’m in desperate need of caffeine.”
Kiersten takes the doughnut box from my hands and pops open the lid. “Aunt Livi texted and said you were doing doughnuts, so I was in charge of coffee.”
I look over at my aunt for an explanation because I haven’t talked to her since the day before yesterday and then, there was zero mention of bringing anything. However, she appears to be reading the inside cover of one of the donation books, too engrossed in the task to offer an explanation, and I frankly don’t care enough to interrogate her. Instead, I stretch out my legs in front of me and lean my throbbing head back against the couch.
“You’re looking a little rough there, Gemmie, late night?” Kierstreaches over and smooths back the frizzy temple hairs that have escaped my half-assed attempt at a ponytail.
My night wasn’t late. It was only midnight when I got home. But after Dax casually dropped the suggestion that my best friend might be harboring secret non-platonic feelings, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Ironically, we stayed outside talking about anything and everything except that until we got cold and headed inside. Not ten minutes later, Dougie attempted to climb back up for a reenactment ofSpider-Man: No Way Home. It took three attempts to get him down and Brandon asked Dax if he would stay on Dougie duty for the rest of the evening. Dax agreed and I went home to my apartment and my spider and all my convoluted feelings.
I take a long sip of coffee before attempting to rationalize the dark-purple circles under my eyes.
“Was at a party. But then I got home and I couldn’t sleep.”
“What’s up?” my sister asks, concerned.
“Some serious internal conflict,” my aunt pipes in before I get the chance to answer her.
“What did you say?” I ask my aunt, who appears to still be reading the same book as before.
She looks up at my question and blinks twice. “Internal conflict. The theme of this book.” She holds up the paperback. It has a handsome duke-like man on horseback, showing a single nipple. “This book could be an excellent option for my next book club meeting.” She writes something down in the notebook in front of her, then sets the paper back down on a pile.
