The thing is, I’ve spent the past eight months swearing off romantic relationships forever. And now forever is turning out to be more like … eight months. Still, I’m barely able to admit this shift to myself, let alone anyone else. So I reach for Sayla’s hand, hypocrite that I am, and I ask again, “You’re good … and …?”
“And.” Her lids beat like butterfly wings. “I miss you, Lo. So much.”
I squeeze her fingers. “I miss you, too.”
Her shoulders sag a little, hopefully with relief. The last thing I want is for Sayla to be weighed down by worries about me. Especially since I’m not being completely forthcoming with her. “The thing is, I’ve been a terrible friend,” she says.
“Are you kidding?” I squawk.
“No. And I can’t even blame Dex for demanding all my time, because I’m the one who’s hogging him. I just love being his wife so much.”
“You’re the very best wife,andthe very best friend,” I insist. “Nobody has my back the way you do.”
Well. Except for maybe Bridger. But that’s comparing apples to … not apples. And I’m definitely not sharing fruit metaphors with Sayla.
“I’ve just been so busy over at the school, and with Dex, at a time when you probably need my support the most. You’ve had so much going on, with your dad moving in here. Plus”—she glances around and whispers—“the whole fake marriage thing. I think I’m just a little afraid of rubbing my happiness in your face.”
“Except my dad’s doing great, and our weddingwasreal.” This protest comes out a bit too quickly, and then I compound the issue by saying, “You signed as a witness,remember? You were definitely there for us when we needed you.”
Our. Us. We.
Yep. I heard it.
And I think Sayla did too, because she pauses, then takes a long sip of her sugary tea. “I didn’t realize you and Bridger were thinking about your marriage as legitimate.”
“I’m just saying it’s real, in terms of legal,” I backtrack.
“Yes … and … I haven’t asked how you actually feel about the situation in a while, though.”
I glance at my untouched tea. “You already know how I feel.”
“Do I?”
“Of course.” I swallow. I’m not sure why I’m hedging with her. If anyone could relate to a change of heart, it’s Sayla. She was the last person to realize how she truly felt about Dex. Still, I’ve been so afraid to acknowledge that I might be (possibly, or a little more than possibly) falling for Bridger that saying those words out loud to someone else, someone who knows me as well as Sayla does, makes the shift all too real.
“Tell me again,” she says.
“Tell you what?”
“Your honest thoughts. About Bridger. Currently,” she specifies. “Not last year, when you were engaged to Foster. Not two weeks ago, during Operation Fool Margaret.” Her pupils laser in on me. “I’m talking about right now. Today. How do you feel in this exact moment?”
“I … I really care about him,” I stammer.
She arches a brow. “Yes … and …?”
“And.” I scramble for the safest answer. “He’s smart. And he’s funny. And he’s kind.”
Sayla’s mouth quirks. “Everyone knows Bridger Adams is just about the smartest, funniest, kindest man around. He’s also the second-most attractive man in Harvest Hollow, aftermy husband.” She lifts her shoulders. “You know what’s extra attractive? When a guy doesn’t show off his assets. So to speak.”
“You’re so right,” I sigh, taking a beat. “I’ll admit these past several weeks have been enlightening.”
She guffaws. “Your face is so red right now. You’re way pastenlightening.”
She puts air quotes onenlightening.
Nonverbal sarcasm at its finest.
“Maybe,” I admit.