always told me everything. In the short duration of our friendship, I haven’t had nearly as much to tell her as she’s had to tell me.
She tugs on my arm, pulling me toward the couch. And though I give into sitting down with her, I’ve made the decision not to ruin my own night by telling her she’s fired.
“Okay, fine,” I blurt out. “I met someone. And I feel guilty about it because I should be in mourning right now. Right?” Saying it out loud feels even more wrong than it sounded in my head.
“Awe, Felicity,” she croons. “Hon, you’re going to be mourning for the rest of your life. He’s your brother.” Thanks.
I think.
“Was,” I correct her. “He was my brother.”
She wraps her hands around my wrists, pulling me to look at her squarely in the eyes. “Don’t say that. He’s still your brother. And just because you met someone, doesn’t mean you love Blake any less. You took such good care of him. Always taking him in, helping him when he needed it. I mean, you made dinner for the guy every night.” I didn’t think she knew how much I did for him. Actually, I don’t think I realized how much I did for him. It wasn’t something I had to think about. He was—he is—my brother and if I could trade places with him right now, I would. “I’m pretty sure he’d want you to be happy, whether he was here or not.” Tears fill Aspen’s eyes and she swats her hand under her lashes to dry her face. “He’d definitely want you to be happy.” Aspen knew Blake, but I wouldn’t say she knew him well. Well, I guess she was around him a lot. She was at our house all the time, and Blake was almost always home. He’d been jobless for the past few months, which meant he spent most of his time on the couch or in his bedroom listening to music. “Is this mystery guy…Tanner?”
She’s so casual about her question, but mostly because she has no idea what really happened last year between Tanner and I. If she did, she’d know nothing with us would ever be that simple.
“It’s not Tanner.”
“Oh no.” She waves her hands in front of her face like she’s just smelled something nasty. “No. No. No. Don’t even tell me it’s Grant.”
I drop my head into my hand, already regretting the use of this discussion to avoid the other one. I get the whole girlfriends-tell-each-other-everything shit, and maybe if I did take the time to fill her in on my life, she’d know me a bit better, but it would take far too long to explain myself in that much detail. Plus, I think Aspen has painted a picture of who she thinks I am in her head, and I’m now seeing she has some of the details very wrong.
“Aspen,” I groan. “That’s gross. He’s old enough to be my dad.”
“Okay…so, I give up. Who is he? Tell me.” She hops up from the couch and drops down in front of me, grabbing my knees. “Just tell me already. The suspense is killing me.”
Why does she care so much? God. This is so much worse than—”Aspen, I have to fire you from Sur Le Feu.”
“Very funny,” she says.
“It’s true. Grant told me—I’m sorry. I have to fire you.” Her eyes go wide; her face, pale. Then red. Very, very red.
Shit.
She stands up, crossing her arms over her chest, and paces. I have no idea what’s coming next. It’s hard to tell how Aspen is going to react to anything. “Get out,” she says, flatly and quite definitively.
“Aspen.” I stand up and move toward her. “Let me explain.” I don’t understand how she can be so shocked about this. She was caught screwing someone in the freezer of all places. Who does that?
“What can you possibly say to make this any better?” She grabs chunks of her hair, crying out, “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
“Grant is making me do this. He said he walked in on you having sex with—” I grab her arm, mid-pace, forcing her to look at me. “Who were you with in the freezer?”
“Please leave, Felicity.”
Fine. What’s left to say anyway? Maybe for once she could take responsibility for herself. I suppose I should just be thankful she didn’t throw a vase at my head. God. She has to know she was wrong…although, she’s usually been one to turn the situation around and point the guilt