My Favorite Half-Night Stand(67)
I shake my head, because what else can I say? Reid was that person for me—my first, true best friend—and it’s hard to hear how much I’ve hurt him. Disappointed him. I blink around the room; my eyes are hot and burning with tears, and it really hits me what a mess I’ve made of things.
“I think—” Reid says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I think you should probably go. It’s clear we both have some things to work out, and I don’t think we can do it with the other around. I get why you did what you did, Millie. And maybe if it hadn’t gone on so long, maybe I’d be able to overlook it. But—”
I step forward, reaching for him. “Reid, the only way I was able to be that open was because I knew it was you. I can do this. I promise.”
He takes my hands and cradles them in his. “Listen to me, okay? I love you, Millie. I do. But I think you’re worth more than just the easy parts.” He lets my hands fall to my sides. “And I need someone who thinks I’m worth it, too.”
The tires scrape as I turn into my driveway and shut off the car. Most of the houses on the block are dark, so I climb out, careful not to slam the door. A weird numbness has taken over. My head is full of static; my limbs are stiff and heavy with exhaustion. My head hurts. But I’m not tired, not really.
The chair out back is still where I left it, pulled away from the table at sort of a haphazard angle, and I sit, staring at the tree in the yard. My computer is nearby, but I don’t need to reach for it, knowing what I’d find there wouldn’t matter anyway. I know what I need to do and that calendars and schedules are the last thing I care about right now.
My fingers slip into the pocket of my sweater and wrap around my phone. It’s too late to be calling, but I know it can’t wait. I search for the name and open a new window.
Hey. I know it’s late so call me when you’re up. I’ll make all the arrangements as soon as I hear from you, but I wanted you to know that I’ll be home this summer to help. Tell Dad that I love him, and I can’t wait to spend some time at home. Hug each other for me. I love you both. I miss you.
chapter sixteen
reid
Chris peeks his head in my office door. “You coming?”
I push away from my keyboard and rub my eyes. They’re burning, like they do when I haven’t looked up from my computer monitor or blinked in hours. I should have expected him: he comes at the same time every Monday.
“No,” I say. “I’m going to grab something later and eat in my office.”
This time he steps in, resting his hands on the back of a chair, and levels me with a disappointed look. “You know it’s been three weeks?”
I give him a flat I’m not talking about this now look, and reach for my coffee. I’m acutely aware of every hour that passes.
It’s killing me. I don’t know if she’s still joining them at lunch twice a week—I don’t ask, and Chris has never offered.
Until now: “She’s never there, man. Not since everything went down. It’s just us. The guys. In all our glory.”
I’m not sure what to do with the reaction I have—sadness—and how he seems to be telling me this not as a guilt trip, but as reassurance that I don’t have to see her. But I don’t like the idea that she’s alone, suffering, either.
“I’m serious.” Now he sits down. “Don’t even pretend like that isn’t the reason you’re avoiding all of us.”
“I’m not pretending,” I tell him. “That is exactly the reason I’m avoiding you guys. I’m also pissed that everyone knew—”
“I didn’t,” he reminds me, hands held up in defense.
“It feels like it became a game, and I think that’s the part that feels the most fucked up.”
Chris shakes his head. “It wasn’t a game, at least from what I can tell. Ed did not like having the secret. Alex . . . I mean, who knows. I’m sure he just didn’t want to get involved. But it sounds like everyone’s advice to her was, ‘Talk to Reid.’ ”
“Well, except when they helped her write the last letter. And anyway, she didn’t talk to me.”
He pauses, looking at my shelves. Finally, he agrees, “She didn’t. Until she knew she had to.”
“So how fucked up is it that I miss her?” I ask, and the admission pushes a sharp blade of discomfort through my sternum. I’ve turned this over a thousand times in my head. If it were Chris in this situation, not me, wouldn’t I be telling him to write the woman off for the rest of his life?
Chris turns back and looks at me evenly, and then nods. “I know, man. I miss her, too.”
Because it isn’t the woman. It’s Mills.
“Like, really fucking miss her. And I’m not sure how to get over her. There’s no one like her. No one makes me feel the way she does. And I know that she’s out there, waiting for me to figure out whether I’m going to forgive her. But how can we start something meaningful on that kind of betrayal?”
“Reid,” he says gently, “you know I’m on your side in all of this, but at some point, we all have to admit that Millie is just really bottled up. It’s part of the deal of being her friend, and if you’re going to be with her in a more serious way, and can’t deal with that aspect of her personality, you’re going to have to figure out how to get her to be more open.”