“I hate this,” Summer said as her tears fell on my neck.
My heart sank, and I pulled her in closer. The sob of heartbreak is primal and universal, and if you’ve ever been there, just thinking about the moment your heart broke makes your insides heavy, leaving you with a need to clutch your chest, as if to marvel over the fact that you survived. Tears prickled my eyes—the memory of all the little and big heartbreaks punching the scars on my chest—it killed me that my best friend would have a scar like this—one that would take so long to heal, and one that would sting every now and then, even decades later.
“I hate this for you, too,” I whispered.
I hugged her tighter. Summer pulled back, and I slung my arm around her waist, leading her into the building.
A few minutes later, I handed Summer a piping-hot cup of PG Tips tea as we sat under a flowing canopy in Asher’s meditation area.
“What the fuck is this place? I feel like Sting is going to pop out at any moment and teach me how to have long, boring sex sessions.”
Summer was always wonderful at delaying an emotional reaction, and it brought me joy to see her embrace her wicked side before we dug into her heartache.
“Yes, this is the tantric sex area,” a distant voice said.
Summer and I whipped our heads to the door and saw Asher. He looked like he had rolled out of bed in just a pair of athletic shorts. There was a slight smirk on his face, his hair was untamed, and his arms were crossed over his bare torso. Summer gawked at him, taking in his perfect body.
“I woke up and you were nowhere, just wanted to make sure you were alive, since I’ve never seen you wake before nine,” he said with a smile. “Didn’t know you had company, sorry to interrupt.” He gave Summer a shy wave.
“Asher, this is Summer, Summer this is—”
“I know who the fuck he is,” Summer said, rolling her eyes. I hugged her tighter as Asher walked over.
“Sorry, I would get up and shake your hand, but I feel like I’m dying, so…”
Asher nodded as I stared at him wide-eyed. “Sorry,” I mouthed.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked Summer, rather sweetly.
“Yeah, salty snacks and a goddamn time machine,” Summer said.
I raised my eyebrows to Asher. I had told Asher nearly everything he needed to know about my best friend—minus the child dilemma, which wasn’t my story to tell. I spared little detail when it came to Summer’s bluntness. Asher had the sense to smile and nod nicely in Summer’s direction.
“Sorry, I’m having a crap day. Nice abs,” Summer said.
“We’ll be inside in a little while,” I said.
“Take your time.”
He leaned down and kissed me on my cheek as Summer watched, and then he disappeared back down the stairs.
“He’s fucking into you. Why haven’t I seen a photo of you both? Why haven’t you DTR’ed? Also, you better let me pick the bridesmaid outfit—and I’ll have none of this empire-waist bullshit.”
I knew what she was doing. Now would be the moment where Summer would try and distract me from her own pain, just to unravel what was going on inside me. I decided to throw her a bone.
“We’re actually venturing out for the first time tonight, but the goal is to not create a media frenzy. We haven’t defined anything because we don’t feel the need to, and you made me wear an empire-waist bridesmaid dress at your wedding.”
“Oh, nice job, Maggie. Way to bring up my wedding the day my marriage falls apart.”
I stared down Summer, shaking my head.
“Summer. No more fucking around. What happened?”
Summer exhaled, staring out at the cityscape. I watched her hard exterior soften in front of me, her spine folding forward as tears rimmed her darkened eyes.
“I told Valeria that I didn’t want kids, and she called me selfish. She said I was a liar, and that when we met, I presented this whole ‘I see myself with a child’ narrative to her, just so I could be with her for the moment, and that I’m changing my mind just so I can get out of the marriage. I told her I loved her, and I wanted to stay with her, but she really thought this was me wanting a way out of our marriage.”
“Summer, make her understand that you aren’t lying. Talk it out. Explain to her how this wasn’t a decision that came to you slowly, or one you take lightly. It’s one you’ve been wrestling with, and you were terrified to tell her once you’d come to the conclusion, because you didn’t want to lose her.”
“I tried, but she kept cutting me off. It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Of course it matters.”
“Maggie, how I came to this conclusion won’t bridge the gap between what Valeria and I want. I don’t want kids, and she wants them—full stop. Marriage is about compromise, and this isn’t a place we can compromise. We’re done. Our marriage is done.”
Summer buried her head in her hands, and her entire chest heaved with thundering sobs. I pulled her body to my side and folded two arms around her, holding her tightly, as if compression would heal the swelling wound of deep loss.
We sat side by side as the sun rose atop our bodies, until Summer inhaled and shook her head. She wiped the tears from below her eyes.
“I need to move out. I can’t…I can’t live there anymore. I mean, it’s our place, but technically, it’s her place.”
“You can stay in my apartment. I’m hardly ever there.”
“Your little shithole? Oh God, I’d rather die.”
Summer started sobbing again. Apparently, for Summer Groves, the thought of existing in a peeling two-hundred-square-foot studio apartment with faulty window AC was just as horrifying as losing the woman she loved. I rubbed her back as Summer slowly swallowed her emotions back in.
“I’m going to fly home. I booked a flight on the way over here. I leave tonight.”
My eyes widened in alarm. “To Florida? Really?”
Summer nodded.
Summer hadn’t been home to see her dad in nearly a decade. Summer and her divorce-attorney father had a historically prickly relationship, one that she couldn’t bring herself to mend, even as her dad desperately tried. When Summer was a teenager, her father had buried himself in work and younger women to escape his wife’s untimely death. Along with not being crowned Single Father of the Year, her dad didn’t exactly embrace Summer’s coming out with open arms. Instead, he brushed off Summer’s “I’m gay!” as “just a New Age phase.” It didn’t help that these two events occurred during Summer’s sophomore year of high school. So by the time she left for college, Summer held on to a rightful grudge—one she could never let go of.
“He keeps begging me to visit. Apparently, I’ll love his new wife because she’s ‘a bisexual,’” Summer said, rolling her eyes as she quoted her father.
His new wife was forty, just five years older than Summer—which we counted as a blessing—the previous one had been a year younger than us.
“What is Luca? Wife number four?”
“My dad says three, because Britney’s ended in an annulment.”
“He can help with the legal stuff at least. Right?” I said, trying to find a silver lining amid the pile of shit.
“We have a prenup. So…it should be easy. Like—” Summer snapped her fingers. “Like it never happened,” she said quietly, her voice growing small under such a huge blow.
“What can I do? Want me to go to your place and pack up a suitcase for you?”
Summer shook her head. “No, Valeria’s going to stay at her parents’ place while I grab my things.”
“I’m coming with you to help you pack.”
“That’s stupid,” she said.
“No, it’s not.”
“Be honest. You never really liked her anyway.”
I went to agree, but I hesitated with my mouth slightly ajar. I knew better than to bash a soon-to-be ex. As easily as a relationship could end, it could begin again. Unfortunately, the mud you hurl at your best friend’s ex can never be un-hurled—words are forever.