She started to kiss me. At first I hesitated. Not because Emily was a bad kisser, but there was so much information to process. But I gave in. If it were a big deal, Macal an would’ve said something.
There was no way she would’ve seen Emily cheating and not tell me.
I thought I could trust Emily, but I knew for certain I could trust Macallan.
84
Ahem.
You know you don’t need to say a single thing to make me feel
bad about that.
I know.
But you’re going to anyway, right?
Nope.
No?
Oh, Macal an, one of us has to be the bigger person about such
things.
You’ve got to be kidding. Since when are you the bigger person
about anything?
Since I forgave you for your betrayal.
You’re right.
Wow! Did that actual y work? I’m right? About something? It’s a Christmas miracle!
You’re pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?
Wel , it is nice to be right about something for once.
Don’t get used to it.
Oh, I won’t. You know I won’t.
C H A P T E R S E V E N
It was torture. Complete and utter torture.
I don’t think I breathed the night Levi left my house to
go talk to Emily. I stared at my phone, convinced I was going
to get a phone call from a newly heartbroken version of him.
The phone did ring, but it was Emily.
“Please,” she begged. “I know I made a mistake and the
only person the truth would hurt is Levi. You don’t want to
hurt him, do you?”
No, I didn’t. But I wasn’t the one who’d cheated on him.
“I promise you that I’ll never do anything like that again,
and if I do, you’ll never have to speak to me for the rest of
your life. I wouldn’t expect you to, either.” I could practically hear her pulse over the phone. “I really like Levi and I don’t
want him to break up with me. Please, Macallan.”
I didn’t like having secrets. Secrets only ended up hurting
people.
She continued to plead. “You’re my best friend. If I can’t
trust my best friend, who can I trust?”
87
I bet Levi thought the same thing.
“I’ve known you for forever, we’ve been through so much.
Can’t you please forgive me so I can forgive myself?”
That hit a nerve. I never thought about what Emily was
going through, how hard this was for her. Although it was her fault.
“Please, Macallan, I’m begging. If I was there right now,
I’d be on my hands and knees. If that’s what you want, I’ll be
there in two minutes to grovel in person.”
I was so torn. Could I take her word that it would never
happen again? I knew the truth would likely crush Levi.
Maybe, I figured, it would be best to pretend it had never
happened.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
There was a pause on the other end. “Really? Oh my good—
ness, Macallan. Thankyouthankyouthankyou! I’ll make this
up to both of you, really.”
“Please treat Levi well. He deserves it.”
“I will! I promise! I love you!”
I should’ve felt relief when I hung up the phone, but all I
felt was dread. As much as I wished to erase that night from
my mind, I knew that some memories were harder to forget
than others.
Especially the painful ones.
I’d told myself many lies over the years. The most frequent
was “you’ll be fine.”
Yes, everything was going to be fine.
You’re going to grow up without a mother, but you’ll be fine.
88
You’ll wake up every morning and realize it wasn’t a night—
mare, it was real. But you’ll be fine.
You’ll have to carry around a secret that could destroy
your two closest friendships, but you’ll be fine.
And I thought I was a horrible liar.
One thing I had become very good at was avoidance.
Avoiding Emily and Levi together. Avoiding talking about
their relationship with either of them. Avoiding any topics
involving parties, Troy, my bedroom, emotional scars, etc.
I managed to do it for over three months. Three months
of not being able to be completely honest and open. Three
months of having to watch every word I said, every move I
made. Three months of pure, unadulterated torture.
As the snow melted and hints of sun started poking
through the clouds, I thought maybe I would be able to put it
completely behind me by the time summer arrived. I even
saw a flower start to bloom while I was on my way to lunch in
early April. I figured that had to be a positive omen.
Danielle waved to me from our regular lunch table. “Guess
who I ran into last night.”
“Who?” I pulled out my carrots and homemade hummus.
“Ian.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Ian?”
She sighed. “Ian Branigan, from your New Year’s Eve
party?”
Oh. I’d almost forgotten there were other things that had
happened that night.
“Yeah. He seemed very interested in what you were up to these days.”
89
“So?”
“She says ‘so?’ ” Danielle said to nobody in particular.
“Oh, I’m sorry. He asked about me? Should I get the wedding registry ready?”
“She mocks.”
“Yes, she does.”
Danielle reached across and helped herself to some of my