Chapter 40: Chapter Forty

RAE

“I’m ready to talk,” I inform Zoe when I get home from Logan’s Sunday afternoon. He’s spending the night at his parents’ house. I declined his offer to stay at his apartment by myself.

I’m on a brave streak this weekend, and I need to use it for this long-overdue conversation with my best friend.

I sit on the couch. She takes the plushy chair. No wine today. This is the most serious family meeting we’ve ever had.

“Can I start?” Zoe asks.

For once, I wanted to be the first to speak. I wanted to lay out all the shit she put both Logan and me through, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. There’s no sense in triggering another disagreement.

I’ll tell her in time. I swallow my sigh and nod. “Sure.”

“I put a lot of thought into how I’ve been acting the past two months, and I owe you a million apologies. I’m sorry for interfering with your relationship.

“I’m sorry for underestimating you and assuming I know what you need better than you do. I don’t, and it was crazy for me to think that I did.

“And Rae, I’m so incredibly sorry for trying to keep you from contacting Logan when you found out about his dad.”

I don’t accept her apologies. Not yet. I need more than sorry. “Why? You’re my best friend.” I wipe my eyes.

“You know me. I have walls, and you don’t. You let yourself feel things and take risks. I thought I could keep you from getting hurt by taking away your chances to do things that might end up hurting you.”

She wrings her hands. “I’ll never do that, interfere with your life, again. I promise.”

I understand, and because I do, I’m not angry anymore. I’ve never been capable of holding grudges, partially because it’s exhausting.

But mostly because once I understand where someone is coming from, once I understand their motivations, I can’t really stay mad, not if they aren’t trying to hurt me.

Zoe really fucked up, but she wasn’t being spiteful or cruel, not intentionally. Everything she did was out of love, even though she went about it in the worst possible way.

So, just like that, our most serious family meeting is our shortest.

“I love you,” I sigh.

“You’re way too forgiving,” she groans. “Can’t you hit me or something?”

I shake my finger at her. “Hey! I know what I’m doing with my forgiveness game.” She groans again while I continue, “But I wouldn’t say no to some scones or waffles.”

“Steven got me this amazing pear jelly,” she says excitedly. “It’s bomb on scones.”

In all the craziness of the past week, I completely forgot about Steven. “Zoe!” I exclaim. “Steven! Tell me everything.”

Zoe goes red. ~My Zoe~. The Zoe who freely admits that she hates emotions is blushing as she pulls measuring cups and bowls out of the cupboard.

“Zoe!” I squeal. “You’re killing me.”

“He’s perfect.” She presses a hand to her heart and sighs dramatically. “How did you work with him for five entire days without strapping him down? Rae, I’m telling you, he is the perfect man.

He ~gets~ me. We have the best conversations, and he actually gives a shit about what I’m saying. He’s ~interested~. It’s incredible.”

My heart simultaneously breaks and swells while Zoe raves about Steven. Half the things she’s praising are normal boyfriend behaviors, like opening doors and, you know, listening to her talk.

I hate that they’re so new to her, but I love that she’s finally experiencing them, that she’s finally with someone who knows her worth.

“Anyway,” she says as she sculpts perfectly triangular scones, “how is lover-boy Logan?”

“Lover-boy loves me. He said it himself,” I say with a grin.

Zoe squeals and claps. “Oh, my God. Okay. Tell me everything, please, and thank you.”

I proceed to tell her everything. “I missed you,” I groan when, two scones later, I’ve finished catching her up on my life.

“I can’t believe you dove under a closing garage door,” she says, impressed. “That’s some real Black Widow shit right there.”

I snort, patting my scone-filled belly. “You did not just compare me to Scarlett Johansson.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re sexy as—”

My phone interrupts. I really need an upgrade. Whenever it vibrates, it sounds like it’s about to tear the whole building down.

“Hey, Logan.”

“Hey, baby.” My heart soars. I love when he calls me that. “What are you doing right now?”

“Hanging out with Zoe.” I flash her a grin. “How are things with you?” ~How are things with your dying dad and mom who I think might have a drug problem~?

He lets out a dry, harsh laugh. “I’m on my way back home. Plans changed. Can I pick you up?”

“Uh…” This should be best friend time, but Logan’s dad is dying, and clearly something bad happened with his parents… I panic-freeze until Zoe waves her arms in front of my face and mouths, ~Yes~ .

“Yes. Yeah, I’d love to,” I say quickly.

He breathes a sigh of relief, and my heart does a little dance. “I’ll be there in fifteen. Love you, baby.”

“Love you,” I squeak.

I notice Zoe’s mischievous smirk and immediately reenter panic mode. Mischievous is one of her most dangerous forms.

“Do you still have that lingerie?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Yeah, definitely panic mode.

“Uh…”

“You do!” She books it into my room, and I hear my drawers opening. “Ah, ha!” She waves a lacy red contraption above her head like a battle flag.

“Jesus, Zoe,” I groan. “He just got back from visit—”

“He wants you to make him feel better, Rae. Make him feel better in this. Trust me.”

I stare at the fabric. There isn’t much. I bought the ensemble to surprise Jake on our one-year anniversary. A couple of days before, he saw it in my drawer and did this weird scoff thing.

I’m pretty sure he didn’t think I could hear him, but I very much did, so I shoved it behind my socks and told Zoe about it months later when I was drunk.

How she remembers, I don’t know. I forgot about it, and I’m the one who bought the damn thing.

“Jake literally laughed at it,” I mutter.

“Jake didn’t go down on you for a year because he thought it was unsanitary. He’s not exactly a sexual expert.”

Fair point.

“Alright,” I sigh. “Turn around. I’m putting it on.”

Zoe cackles gleefully.

I feel ridiculous yanking the thin fabric up my thighs, which have definitely grown a bit since I bought this stupid thing.

It’s a skimpy, romper-like one-piece with bands around the legs, a lacy bodice, and an underwire bra that actually does some tremendous favors for my B-cups.

I toss normal underwear into my purse, cover my immodest self with jeans and a sweater, and apply a copious amount of deodorant.

The second I see Logan, I break into a nervous sweat. Better come prepared, right? I think about it for a second, and then shove the deodorant stick into my purse, too.

“Go get ’em, tiger!” Zoe hollers as I rush out the door to meet Logan.