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Gabriella

It’s been nearly two weeks since Ali’s incident and every day she gets a little better. We rotate being with her. When I’m working, Ria comes over, Jack and Brad pop in most days too and Harry has spent every night on the couch. Ali eventually told us everything about what’s been going on the past few months and with the parole hearing looming she needs all the support in the world.

Brad and I have had a few awkward exchanges as we pass each other in the apartment and Patrick thankfully hasn’t bothered me, which is a relief and also worrying. I sit the opposite end of the couch to Ali, we are wrapped up on blankets in our yoga pants and sweatshirts and eat Thai green curry watching Sex and The City.

It feels like forever since we have just hung out together like this; we would always do this before life got complicated and men came into our lives. I’m not stupid enough to believe we will live together forever, but I’ll miss these days when they are gone.

“I think I am probably the Samantha of the group,” Ali says with a mouthful of curry. I snort a laugh.

“Yeah, with some Carrie thrown in,” I suggest.

“Yeah, and Ria is for sure Charlotte, hiding in the pantry to get a break from the kids.” We both laugh and it’s light and airy and it’s the most I’ve seen her smile in months.

“Oh great, does that make me the workaholic with the cheating husband,” I deadpan.

She flattens her mouth and snorts. “Speaking of husbands. How’s things with Patrick? You haven’t said much about him.”

I go to speak, but my phone buzzes.

Brad

I MISS YOU

“I don’t know. I think it’s going okay. He’s busy with work, so we haven’t seen each other much,” I lie.

My phone buzzes again.

Brad

I NEED YOU

Worry stirs in my belly. Something is wrong.

Another message pings and it’s a photo, one from my photo shoot I did in LA and my heart sinks. I look happy. I remember how good I felt that day, what Brad did for me, the bangle, the confidence he helped me re-claim. The night we shared together. It all comes back and now every part of my body aches in that way it does when you get sick, when the flu takes over and ravages your body. But this isn’t the flu, no this is pain; thisis longing, this is wanting, needing and missing someone you know you can’t have.

“Who’s that?” Ali asks, making me jump.

“Oh, erm Patrick,” I answer vaguely, placing it face down on the couch and tucking back into my food.

“What did he want?” she asks, in between bites.

“He just wanted to invite me over, but I’ll see him another time.”

“Go, go see him.”

I turn my focus away from the television to face her. “No, no, we are having a girls’ night. I’ll see him another night. I’m not leaving you,” I say firmly.

“Gabs, I’ll be fine. I have to be alone at some point. Please, go see him. You haven’t seen him in ages.”

I stare at her, conflicted. I want to go. Something feels wrong, but I don’t want to leave Ali alone.

“Please, if I need you, I will call you. I swear.” I eye her suspiciously. “Scout’s honor,” she mocks, putting her fingers to the side of her head to salute me, and I chuckle.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Yes, go, please. I will be fine here with my Thai food and Sarah Jessica Parker.”

I place my empty bowl on the table. “Promise me you will call. I won’t stay out. I’ll be a few hours and I’ll be back.”