#famous(65)

I gave an awkward laugh. “I guess so.” Emma rushed on.

“She’s barely older than me. And, like, why doesn’t she have any of her own friends in her wedding?”

“Mm-hmm.” I nodded. My role right now: sympathetic human wall to vent to.

“They could have waited until I was at college. Then I wouldn’t have to care what he did, or who he was lining up for his next divorce.” Emma took a big gulp of Diet Coke, sputtering a little, like a bubble had caught in her throat. Her cheeks were bright red with leftover rage. No dimple, though.

Dude, thinking about Rachel right now: not helping.

Emma turned to me, eyes narrowed like she was looking for something, then shook her head and looked at the gray granite speckles of the countertop.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even be bugging you with this stuff, I just didn’t know who else to talk to.” Her eyes got a little filmy again.

“No, I don’t mind,” I said automatically. Please don’t actually start crying. This would be even harder if she started crying.

“Really?” She looked up at me. My heart squeezed a little. Suddenly I knew, like, deep down knew, that I didn’t want this anymore. Didn’t want to deal with the games, and the anger coming out of nowhere, and the drama. I’d been telling myself that earlier, but I think I’d still doubted it, just a little.

Not anymore. Emma and I really were over. Like, over-over.

Knowing it for sure didn’t feel liberating, though, it just felt like a loss. A big empty space opening up in a part of me that used to be filled with Emma.

So I lied. Again.

“Really.”

“Thanks, Kyle.” She smiled softly. “You’ve always been so good to me.”

That just made me feel worse. I turned to the fridge and started rooting around.

“You want something to eat? We’ve got fruit salad, obviously. And . . . I think this is quinoa?” I leaned out, holding a bowl. Emma was holding her phone in front of her face, looking at the screen intently and tapping at the bottom. “Em?”

“Sorry, my mom just texted. Um. . .” She looked up. “No, no thanks. The only thing I want right now is, like, an entire gallon of cookies and cream.”

“We might have rice-cream?” I opened the freezer. Since Carter left, Dad and I were basically in thrall to Mom’s need to stay “trim.” Any foods she had “weaknesses” for were replaced with crappy versions.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m really not even hungry.” Emma looked up at me, eyes big and sad. She was so beautiful, and so fragile, like she needed someone to protect her from the world. It made something twinge. Like some part of me wanted to keep her safe even though the rest of me didn’t necessarily want her around anymore.

We both sipped our pop in silence. The silence: more and more awkward.

“I should go,” she finally said, pushing the can across the counter. “Nathan’s afterschool program ends soon, I should be home.”

I nodded. My chest felt tight. I almost felt like I should hug her. But I knew I couldn’t.

“Will you be okay?”

Emma smiled sadly. “Not really. But yeah. You know me, I’m the rubber girl. Bounce back from anything. Shoot, I even have a homecoming date, so I’ve got everything covered.” She smiled again, but I felt that knife twisting. Classic Emma.

I still felt sad for her, still wanted to help. But I’d never been more certain this was the right decision. Rachel would never try to dig into me just to . . . Jeez, it was getting harder and harder to pretend to myself that things with Rachel were still just casual. Emma showing up like this: apparently the thunk on the head I needed to realize what should have been obvious, like, ages ago.

“Good.” I swallowed. Hopefully I wasn’t blushing. “That’s good.”

“Okay, I’m going now. For real.”

I walked her to the door.

“Thanks for letting me come over.” She sounded so small it made my throat tight. She slipped her spindly ankles into the tall boots she’d left on the bright-white tiles of the foyer.

“It’s really no big deal.” It felt less like a lie now. Maybe because I finally felt sure of what I wanted . . . and it wasn’t Emma. A shoulder to cry on: I’m there. The rest of me: not Emma’s anymore.

I pulled her into a hug. It didn’t seem dangerous now. You hugged people when you said good-bye.

She folded into me, sighing into my chest, until I pulled my arms away.

Emma blinked at me rapidly, then seemed to make some sort of decision. She forced a smile and started down the walkway.

She was halfway to her car when she turned to look over her shoulder.

“Kyle?” Her voice was lower, a little ragged.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

Then she ran out to her car, slamming the door behind her, leaving me alone.





chapter forty-five


RACHEL

WEDNESDAY, 6:48 P.M.

Nothing.

I clicked on my messages to make sure the phone hadn’t somehow fried itself and forgotten to tell me about the new one from Kyle.

But there weren’t any. Whatever had come up, it had wiped me from his mind. The idea was like a hole in my middle, raw and black and painful.