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I glared at her through swollen eyes. “You knew what seeing him again would do to me.”

And when she didn't answer right away, I accused, “You tricked me.”

“I nudged you.”

“Carol.”

“Okay, fine!” She threw up her hands. “Yes, I tricked you. Because you weren’t going to go unless I did, and I was tired of watching both of you circle the same emotional drain without ever facing what’s still between you.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Between us? There’s nothing between us except a decade of silence and the worst breakup in the history of lovers.”

"I thought that honor belonged to Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII," Carol smirked, and I glared at her. "Alright," she lifted her hands in surrender. “Then riddle me this: tell me, why are you crying like he just left you again?”

Ouch. That hit.

She said it gently. But it still hit like a punch to the sternum.

I wiped at my cheeks again as fresh tears slipped out despite my best efforts. “Because he remembered my coffee order," I sobbed. "Because he smiled at me like I still meant something. Because he called me Ells.” The last part was broken by another sob.

Carol’s expression softened. “Because you never stopped being in love with him.”

I shook my head. “No. That part of me died a long time ago.”

But even as I said it, the lie caught in my throat and tasted bitter on my tongue.

Carol tilted her head, her eyes quietly scolding me for the lie. She curled up next to me, handed me a second box of tissues, and said, “Then cry it out. And when you’re done, we can talk about what you’re going to do. Because I have a feeling this isn’t over.”

I sigh-sobbed, because I shared that feeling. "For the record, I'm still mad at you."

She took a deep breath and my hand. "How many times have we sat right like this, with you crying because he broke your heart? How many times have you told me that there will never be another man?"

"There won't be," I doubled down. "Not after what he did to me."

"Look, I'm not saying it was right or wrong what he did," Carol lifted a finger to stop me from interrupting. This wasn't the first time she’d defended him on this.

I managed to get a quick mutter in. "Some friend you are."

She ignored it. "He had his reasons, and we both know it. But the four years the two of you were together were some of the best of my life,” Carol said softly. “You two are my family. And when it ended, it gutted me too.”

I pressed a tissue to my eyes, but it didn’t help.

The tears kept coming, hot and exhausting.

Carol took a deep breath, and her thumb brushed over the back of my hand.

“He pushed you away because he was hurting, El. And yeah, it was cruel, and yeah, I told him he was an idiot. Loudly. More than once. But he didn’t do it because he stopped loving you. ”

I shook my head. “He could’ve told me that. He could’ve trusted me enough to talk to me. ”

“I know,” she whispered. “But he was eighteen, and looking at a life in a wheelchair. He was scared out of his mind. Scared of being a burden. Scared of tying you down to a life you didn’t choose. He thought letting you go would give you a better one.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Because part of me remembered that boy. The one who’d cried in my arms the night before another surgery. The one who held me like he was drowning.

“I didn’t want a better life,” I finally said. “I wanted him. ”

Carol smiled sadly. “I know, and I knew it then. And I think—deep down—he did too. But he also thought he was doing the right thing. And I... I kind of understood. I didn’t like it, but I got it. At eighteen, none of us knew what we were doing.”

I stared at her. “And now? Ten years later?”

She shrugged. “Now, you’re both standing in the same place again. Only this time, you’ve got something to lose if you don’t try.”

I scoffed. “He could’ve called. After two years. Three. Four. He could’ve tried.”

Carol leaned back, her voice quieter. “You want the truth?”

“Always.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I thought one of you would come to your senses. But neither of you did. And I get it—life moved on. You built something incredible. So did he. But ten years, Ella? That’s long enough.”

I shook my head and felt the damn tears returning with vengeance. “I’m not ready to open that door.”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “But you might want to ask yourself why it’s still unlocked.”

Damn Carol and her stupid writer's metaphors and her sharp mind. She managed once again to shut me up.

She gave a dry laugh. “Besides, it’s not like I’m the one to talk.”

I glanced at her, narrowing my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She gave a shrug that tried to look casual and failed. “Let’s just say... there will never be another man for me, either.”

“Oh no.” I blinked. “You’re not still hung up on Gabe?”

“Guilty,” she muttered, and reached for the box of tissues. “But unlike you and Patrick, he hates me. So, I’m officially doomed to live the rest of my life alone, bitter, and writing romance novels, because that’s the only way I can get off.”

“Carol!”

She grinned through her own tears. “I’m serious. If you and Patrick don’t fix this, I swear to God, I’m turning your story into my next series. I’ll change the names, but not enough that anyone who knows you won’t recognize the emotional carnage.”

I groaned. “Don’t you dare use my breakdown as book fodder.”

“Too late.” She smirked. “Working title: The Dish That Got Away. ”

I rolled my eyes, but a smile pulled at my lips anyway.

And just like that, we were friends again.