When Pippa looks up again, there are tears in her eyes and she sniffs.
I reach for her hand and she lets me take it.
‘I do love you, Pip. You’ve been such a big part of my life and I’ll understand if you sayno, but I’m hoping we can remain fr?—’
‘Friends?’ she asks, talking over me.
‘Yes, if you’ll have me.’
An unseen hand tightens around my heart as Pippa’s eyes rove my face for an achingly long moment.
‘That’s the one part we’ve always got right, isn’t it? Our friendship,’ she says with a tentative smile. ‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily.’
‘You sure?’ I ask, my voice catching.
She nods, and the vice grip around my heart releases.
‘Maybe one day, this’ll be a funny story we tell,’ she says with a forced smile.
‘Maybe,’ I say, even though it will be a long time before I forgive myself for my part in this, and even longer before I think it’s funny.
Pippa gives my hand a squeeze, then lets go. My eyes search hers – is shereallyokay? AmI? This is the right thing to do, but I’m not surprised when tears prick my eyes. I look away, blinking them back.
‘Now, tell me all about Capri,’ she says.
And I do, leaving out the parts that matter most.
24
DELANEY
‘Are you sure you don’t want to stay over?’ Megan asks, her head angled in pity.
‘Tempting, but how would I choose between sleeping next to a six-year-old ninja who kicks all night long, and your perfect little princess who snores like a chainsaw?’
‘There’s always the pull-out in the den.’
‘Uh, no thanks – I can safely say that since you told me you were conceived in that bed, I willneverwant to sleep in it again. I have no idea why you’ve kept it.’
‘It’s a family heirloom – when I die, the twins will fight over it.’
‘The only thing the twins will fight over is who’s taking it to the dump.’
She bursts out laughing, but stops just as quickly, slipping right back into pity mode. I’m not loving it.
‘You sure, Laney?’ she asks again. ‘Go on, stay the night.’ Her plea makes total sense considering I showed up on her doorstep in tears – the pathetic boo-hoo kind.
It was right after dinner and Gabe was supervising bathtime while Megan was packing lunches. She took one look at me, bundled me inside, sat me at the breakfast bar, and poured me a giant glass of Chardonnay, then topped up her own.
‘Now, enough with the stoic bullshit,’ she said. ‘You’re totally fucking miserable, so spill.’
And I did – about everything, catching her up on the past week.
Crying over Nicholas because he obviously never gave a shit about me. Moping around Capri all by myself after Nick left, despite promising myself not to – not even a hot-stone massage at the spa made a dent in my self-pity party. Coming home to an empty apartment, like I’ve done a hundred times before, but this time seeing it through fresh eyes for the sterile, soulless box that it is.
Andmy pitiful attempt to throw myself back into work but being more directionless than a cat chasing a laser pointer. I start production on a psychological thriller next week – we’re shooting in Toronto, which is doubling as New York – and I’m supposed to be gearing up, not staring off into space trying to recall the exact colour of Nick’s eyes.
I told him to fuck off. He did. And I’ve been constantly preoccupied with thoughts of him ever since.