How can I make her believe? There’s got to be some way to crack myself open so she understands what she means to me. I keep trying with words that seem to be failing. “Abby, that’s what you don’t understand. There is no comparison.”
She pulls out of my grasp and turns back toward the window. “It’s you who doesn’t understand.”
Real fear, the kind I’ve only known a few times in my life when I’d been in particularly gruesome fires, rises, beating in my veins. I take a deep breath and blow it out, wanting to stay calm. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”
She’s silent for a good minute before she runs her hands through her hair. “My whole life—my parents, friends, teachers, anyone who’s ever met Eden—has offered me the same encouraging little speech you just did.” She gestures in the air. “Eden’s jealous of you. You have all these things she doesn’t have, you’re so bright and smart, you have such a bright future. On and on and on…” She meets my gaze, and there’s something there that hadn’t been there before. “Don’t you understand? All that poor Abby, hand-patting and bright-eyed reassurance, all they do is reinforce the message that I’m somehow lacking.”
Mother fucker.
Dread crawls up my spine as I grasp the full impact of my mistake. I’d never thought of it like that. How the message would be perceived, even though that’s not remotely how I want Abby to feel.
“You don’t think I saw how you looked at her? How everyone looks at her?” She smiles at me, all understanding.
And there it is. Of course Abby hadn’t missed it. She’s too observant for it.
I’d fallen victim to it. Of everything Abby is saying.
The truth is, Abby told me Eden was beautiful, but I’d thought she’d been exaggerating. She hadn’t. I’d been thrown off balance when Eden walked into the restaurant looking like she stepped out of the pages of a magazine. I hadn’t wanted her, or wanted Abby less, I’d just been…surprised.
If that wasn’t bad enough, what I really hate myself for, is that my first impulse was to turn to Abby and reassure her. Since I’m not a total idiot, I’d ignored the instinct, but it had been there.
I’m guilty of every single thing she’s accusing me of, but she doesn’t understand how I feel about her. “Abby—“
She holds up a hand. “Stop. I’m going to go into my house now.”
“Wait—”
“No.” She looks longingly at her front porch, like she can’t wait to get away from me. “I need to be alone and think.”
The last words I want to hear. As much as I hate it, I have to respect her wishes. I have one more hope left. I nod. “Do you still want to go to the club tonight?”
She tilts her head, assessing me. “I don’t know. Why don’t you pick me up at eight and we’ll decide then.”
I’m defeated. Out of moves. And I have no one to blame but myself. I have no choice but to give her the time and space she needs, but then Iwillfight for her. “All right, but, Abby, we will talk about this.”
She opens the car door, moving to get out before glancing back at me over her shoulder. “Yes, we will.”
Somehow I don’t think that’s a good sign, but it’s the only thing I’ve got.