hands animate when she talks. She keeps tucking a piece of hair behind her left ear but it refuses to stay put for more than a few steps at a time. Still, it doesn’t faze her.
We’ve circled the block now, returning to the spot just outside my steps, stopping under the shade of a red-leafed maple.
“Did I say anything else?” I ask.
Aidy turns to face me, her chin pointing up as she stares to the side with her brows furrowed.
“Nope,” she says. “That was it, really. You were just plastered, and I think you needed to let it all out. Not sure why you picked me.”
She laughs, and I agree. I have no idea why I picked her, though it’s not like I have an overabundance of options these days. Guess she’s easy to talk to. I don’t really have anyone like that now.
I’ve let too many people slip away over the years. And the ones who tried to come around this last year, I pushed to the wayside, convinced they were better off without me in their lives.
I’ve done some shitty things in my life.
And I’ve made some bad calls.
But standing here, watching Aidy chew the inside of her lip and stare up at me like she doesn’t see the living, breathing monster inside me, gives me a sliver of hope that I didn’t have until today.
This woman, this beautiful, Mary-fucking-Sunshine of a woman, doesn’t believe I’m heartless.
My chest falls as I exhale, and I jam my hands into my pockets because my fingers twitch with an urge I haven’t felt since I’m not sure when.
I want to touch her.
I want to feel her soft, creamy skin under my palms. I want to taste that bee-stung pout that’s constantly slicked in a different shade every time I see her. I want to gather a fistful of her hair as I press her against the wall and graze my lips against hers.
And in an irrational flicker of a second, I want to know what it might be like to love her so hard, it physically hurts.
Seventeen
Aidy
* * *
“What do you think of this one?” Wren slaps a wedding magazine in my arms when I get back from Ace’s.
Dazed, I snap out of it and take the glossy booklet, flipping to the dog-eared page in the middle. The dress is covered in lace, the back exposed, with long sleeves and a traditional A-line skirt.
“It’s very you,” I tell my sister.
“Is it too Kate Middleton?” she asks. “I don’t want people to think I’m trying to copy her. It’s bad enough we look the same from behind. God, why couldn’t I have at least been given Pippa’s ass?”
“Squats. I’m telling you.” I smack my behind and kick off my shoes.
“So how’d it go?” Wren asks. “I take it he appreciated the breakfast.”
“Scoot over, bud,” I say to Enzo before stealing his spot on the couch. “He didn’t remember talking to me last night.”
My sister’s jaw falls. “What?”
“No recollection.” I lean back, exhaling. “So I looked like a crazy person.”
Wren snickers.
“It’s not funny,” I say.
“It’s hilarious.”
Enzo chuckles too, though I’m not sure he knows what he’s laughing at. Wren licks her pointer finger and flicks to a new page in one of the seven hundred wedding magazines on her lap.
“But whatever, it was fine,” I say. “He invited me up. I made us omelets and then we went for a walk.”
My sister glances up at me, one eye squinted. “You went on a walk? That’s . . . cute.”
“He called it a walk and talk.”
“Even cuter.” She turns to another page. “Did he bring up Topaz? And the date?”
I pick at a loose thread on the arm of the sofa. “Nope. I don’t think he has any desire to date me. Matter of fact, I don’t think he knows what to think of me.”
“Ha.” Wren looks up. “I don’t even know what to think of you half the time and I’ve known you your whole life.”
“Anyway. It’s okay. Who has time to date, right?” I rise, stretching my arms over my head.
“Yeah, dating and relationships are for total losers who have no life.” Wren clucks her tongue, winking at me and flashing the glittering cushion-cut diamond on her left ring finger.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Leaning down, I ruffle the top of Enzo’s messy hair. “Okay, I’m going to return some emails and relax for a bit.” I turn to Wren, “And please, please, please stop emailing me links to dresses. If you need