She shoots me a dubious look.
“For the record, the Cape doesn’t evenhavemoors.” My chin jerks haughtily as I walk into the kitchen area and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “And even if I have turned into some lame, lovelorn Cathy knockoff — can you blame me? You know what happened.”
“Actually, I only know what you’ve told me in your letters — which is very little,” she says, following me over. “If you’d get a cellphone, like a normal person…”
“Don’t hold your breath.” I hop up on the countertop, swinging my legs as I sip my water. “And don’t pretend you don’t know exactly why I had to leave.”
She looks at me long and hard. “I know why youthinkyou had to leave.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
With a sigh, she leans back against the opposite counter and runs her hands through her platinum blonde hair. “You got scared. You ran. I get it — Hell, I probably would’ve reacted identically, if I were in your position.”
“I sense abutcoming.”
“Nobuts. Just a friend pointing out that running away from something and beingover itaren’t exactly the same thing.”
“Meaning…”
“Meaning you’re not over it.” She pauses. “Not over him.”
My heart is suddenly pounding. “Of course I’m over him. It’s been two years. He’s not the same person I fell in love with. I’m not the girl he used to know. We’re friends. Nothing more.”
“I saw theEileeninterview. I saw you sing together.”
“So?”
“People who look at each other the way you two do while making music… let’s just say, it’s apparent they want to be making somethingelsetogether. Naked. All night long.”
“Carly!” I set down my water bottle with a bang. “It’s called acting.”
“It’s calledpassion,” she corrects lowly. “It’s calledlonging. As a certified Bronte heroine, I’d think you’d recognize it when it fell into your lap.”
I cling stubbornly to my silence.
“Felicity. It’sme, here — not a reporter, not your manager, not one of your fans or bandmates or crazy relatives.Me.” Her head tilts. “If you can’t be honest with your best friend about what you’re going through… who the hell can you be honest with?”
“Okay! Okay.” Groaning, I drop my face into my hands. “You’re right. You’re right and I’m…I’m miserable. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No. That’s the opposite of what I want for you.”
“God, this is such a mess!”
“What is?”
“Everything! This tour. Seeing him. My whole life.” I shake my head. “I knew coming back here was going to be hell, but it’s so much harder than I ever could’ve imagined, Carly.”
“I know, honey.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “So, you saw the interview, huh? How bad was it? I’ve been avoiding television screens. The press have been relentless, these past few days.”
“It wasn’t bad, honestly. In fact it was better than— Never mind.”
My brows lift. “Better thanwhat?”
“You probably don’t want to hear this.”
“Just spit it out, Carly.” My heart starts to pound. “Did they dig into my past? Did they find out about…”