patch things up with my BFF (best fucking friend). I took a cab to Tolka straight from the airport three months after she found out about Callum and me. Three months after she started ghosting me.
I found her in a compromising position on the grass in her backyard, being nailed by her new husband. I swear he was planting her like a flower. I interrupted them mid-fuck, but only by accident. The door was unlocked—I remembered Rory used to complain that Mal always kept it unlocked—and I waltzed in. When I realized what was happening before my eyes, I started backing up, but my butt hit the breakfast nook and knocked a Guinness bottle to the floor, and they both turned around to see where the noise came from.
The first thing Rory did was throw her dress at me, then she proceeded to bolt up on her feet and chase me naked around the cottage, yelling, “You screwed my boyfriend” really loudly.
Mal leaned against a wall, arms crossed, a smirk on his face, watching the entire thing half-naked and fully hard. He was gorgeous. I finally realized why she couldn’t shake him all those years. Not only did he look a thousand times better in person, but he also has this cocky, sweet, you’ll-never-tame-me expression that just speaks to the inner fixer-upper women have.
Mal then made us all coffee and tea before he announced that he was going to pick his daughter up from school.
On the couch, Rory grabbed my hand and told me, “You know what the worst part is? I wasn’t even mad at you for sleeping with him. You’re right. I did tell you I was going to break up with him a gazillion times, though it was still a mistake. I was mad because you didn’t tell me. And because you kept pushing me into his arms for your own, selfish reasons, despite my doubts. The lie is bigger than the sin.”
“I know.” I broke down in tears.
I was tired from the flight and from being eaten alive by my own guilt (AKA not the way one likes to be eaten). I just couldn’t take it anymore.
“I know all those things. I just thought I could sweep it under the carpet and pretend like it never happened. I wanted it to work out between you guys—right up to the point you were in Greece, actually.” I gnawed at my lower lip.
“Why? What happened?” Rory asked, taking a sip of her tea.
She was normally a coffee drinker. Another thing that changed after she moved to Ireland.
“I ran into Whitney, Ryner’s assistant, at Saks. Before you growl at me, I was just looking around, not working on inflating my overdraft situation.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I could swear she was sporting a baby bump. It was so easy to figure out with her malnourished self. Of course, I had no intention of saying hi to her, so I did what every character in a B-grade romantic comedy does and hid behind the mannequins. Whit was walking around with someone who looked like she could be her mother, rubbing her swollen belly. The woman asked her, ‘Do you really think he’s going to leave his girlfriend for you?’ And Whitney replied, ‘I don’t know, and I don’t care. He got me an apartment next to his so he can be close to the baby. If Callum wants to marry Little Miss Awkward, I’m not going to ruin his plans as long as he keeps the cash flow coming. Which he will.’”
Rory’s eyes flared, and she sucked in a breath, straightening her back. More than anything, she looked casually outraged. Like, when you tell your friend about something insane that happened to one of your colleagues at work. She seemed completely emotionally detached from the story, which made it easier to tell her.
“What happened then?” she asked.
“Well, at first I thought, What are the chances? But then, I remembered you always told me Whitney was extra touchy with Callum and totally had the hots for him. Pieces started falling together. He’d cheated on you before, why wouldn’t he do it again? I tried to call when you were in Greece, but you didn’t pick up. Then what happened between us came out, and it was too late. I swear not telling you was the worst thing I’ve ever done, Rory. I swear. There’s never any way a boy could come between us.”