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“Do you really think so?”
Her eyes lock onto mine. “You really don’t see it, do you?”
I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “See what?”
“The way he looks at you. How he practically growls at anyone who gets too close to you. The fact that he stayed by your side since college.” Blake takes another sip of her drink. “That’s not fake dating, NayNay. That’s a man in love.”
My stomach twists. “Then why did he end it?”
“Because you keep pushing him away.” She nudges me with her foot. “So he probably thinks that you’re happier without him. And giving up someone you love because you think they’ll be better off? That’s like the biggest love confession there is. And before you start with the whole ‘I’m protecting him’ bullshit, let me ask you something. Has Brandon ever needed protecting?”
“No,” I whisper.
“You’re both idiots.”
“Says the queen of?—”
“Bitches. Exactly.” Her mascara’s smudged eyes fix on me, testament to another night she probably doesn’t remember.
My phone buzzes.
Reminder: Family dinner tomorrow 6pm.
The last time I sat at that dining table, Mom was alive. Her chair will be empty now. Another person I couldn’t save.
I rub my arm. “You didn’t hear how defeated he sounded.”
“Want me to prove it?”
“Prove what?”
“That Brandon Milton is so far from over you, it’s actually pathetic. Give me one week.”
I sit up straighter. “B, what are you planning?”
“What I do best, NayNay.” Her lips curl into something wicked. “A party.”
“No. Absolutely not. The last time you threw a party?—”
“Was legendary, and you know it.” She stretches like a cat who’s spotted a particularly entertaining mouse. “Besides, when have my plans ever failed?”
Failed is an understatement. Three people ended up in the ER, and I woke up with a tattoo of Winnie the Pooh on my ass cheek. Good thing it wasn’t permanent.
“Do you want that list alphabetically or chronologically?” I ask.
“Do you want your man back or not?”
TWENTY-SEVEN
NAOMI
The city stretches beneath us, a tapestry of lights against the darkening sky. Blake’s ‘small party’ has turned into exactly what I feared. A full-blown rooftop party complete with a DJ booth and open bar. The bass thrums through the concrete under my feet, and the air tastes like summer and vodka.
String lights crisscross overhead, casting everything in a warm glow. Bodies move to the music, drinks slosh, and laughter mingles with the night air.
I scan the crowd for the hundredth time. No Brandon.
Maybe he’s not coming. Maybe I read this all wrong, and he really is done with me. Maybe?—