My fingers grip my kneecap so tight the knuckles go white. “Your exact words were the best way to get over someone is to get under them.”
“Phoebe. Honey. I knew from the start you’d never be able to make it just sex with Nate. You love him. You’ve always loved him. That doesn’t just go away, especially if you take it to the next level.”
“Then why the hell would you push me to go after him?” I practically scream. “Do you want me to get my heart broken?”
“No! Of course not.” She sighs deeply and adopts a rare, somber tone. “I want you to be happy. And for the past ten years, you haven’t been.”
“That’s not true,” I protest weakly.
“Being content and being happy are not the same thing,” she says. “Do you know how sad it makes me to see you pining away, year after year, over the same guy and refusing to go after him because you’re too scared to take a chance? Scared to get hurt again?” Her voice breaks. “Do you know how freaking heartbreaking it is to see someone you care about paralyzed by their own self-doubt? To hear them question that they’re worthy of love?”
“Lila—” I try to interrupt, but she plows on.
“I knew the only way I’d get you to even talk about the Knox situation was if I framed it as a plan to help you get over him,” she says, exasperation in her tone. “And I also knew as soon as you walked back into his life, once you gave him a tiny indication that you were still interested in him… he wouldn’t be able to push you away.”
“You couldn’t possibly know that,” I snap.
“Except I did.” She sighs deeply. “Don’t you get it? The two of you are so alike — so stubborn, so hot-tempered, and so, so utterly blind to the fact that you need each other like normal people need air.”
“But—”
“Has he pushed you away, since this whole thing started?” she asks. “Has he been distant and cold?”
“Well—”
“No.” She answers her own question. “He hasn’t walked away. He’s shown up more than ever. He’s been intense. Angry. Passionate. Domineering, even. But not cold. Not distant. Because he knows deep down, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he needs you just as much as you need him.”
My throat contracts. I’m so mad at her I can barely breathe, at the moment, but there’s an insistent voice at the back of my head telling me maybe, just maybe…. She’s right.
“You played me,” I say finally. “Best friends are supposed to be honest with each other.”
“Maybe.” Her voice is small but full of sincerity. “But best friends also do everything they can to make the other happy. Even if doing it gets them in trouble.”
“Lila…” My voice shakes as I force myself to confront the real reason I’m so upset. “What if you’re wrong? What if he doesn’t want me? What if it really is just sex to him?”
“I’m not wrong.” Her voice is confident.
I chew my lip. “How can you be sure?”
“Because the only time the ghosts disappear from his eyes is when he’s looking at you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Can we all just agree that people
with pet birds are weird?
Phoebe West, genuinely curious why everyone
on earth doesn’t own a teacup Pomeranian.
I’m quiet when the boys come back that night. I know it freaks them out — I’m many things, but introspective isn’t typically one of them. They don’t say anything, but I feel their eyes on me as we eat dinner at the kitchen island — Nate on the stool beside mine, Parker straight across from us.
“You feeling okay, Sweet P?” Parker asks.
I nod and take another bite of mashed potatoes.
“I only ask, because the last time you were this quiet was when we picked you up from the Sadie Hawkins dance with the purse-puker. What was his name, again?”
“Duncan,” Nate mutters quietly.