I open the door and force a smile, but my smile falls flat. It’s not banana bread.
It’s Sydney.
I am so confused. I glance behind her and look to see if she’s here with Ridge, but Ridge isn’t behind her. Nor is his car in the driveway. I look at her.
“It’s just me,” she says.
Why would Sydney show up at my house alone? I look her up and down, taking in her casual jeans and T-shirt, her flip flops, her thick blond hair that’s pulled up into a ponytail. I don’t know why she’s here, but if any other girlfriend showed up at their boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend’s house, they wouldn’t show up looking this casual, even if it were just to borrow a cup of sugar. Women like making other women jealous. They especially like making the women who have slept with the men they’re in love with jealous. Most women would show up in their most flattering outfit with sculpted makeup and perfect hair.
Seeing Sydney at my front door is jarring enough for me to want to close it in her face, but seeing that her goal has nothing to do with making me envious of her is enough for me to step back and wave her inside.
There can only be one other reason she’s here.
“Are you here about the Instagram post?” She must be. She’s never been here before. In fact, we haven’t spoken since the day I read all the messages between the two of them.
Sydney shakes her head as her eyes dart around the living room, taking in my home. She doesn’t seem nervous, but she steps inside my house so cautiously that it makes her seem somewhat vulnerable. I wonder if Ridge knows she’s here. It’s not like him to allow his girlfriend to show up and fight his battles for him. And Sydney doesn’t seem like the type who would fight his battles.
Which can only mean she’s here to fight her own battle.
“Sorry to just show up like this,” she says. “I would have texted you first, but I was worried you would tell me not to come.”
She’s right, but I don’t admit that out loud. I watch her for a moment and then turn and walk to my kitchen. “You want something to drink?” I ask, looking back at her.
She nods. “Water would be nice.”
I grab two bottles of water out of the refrigerator and motion her over to my dining room table. Something tells me this conversation is going to be more fitting for the table than a couch. We both take a seat across from each other. Sydney sets her phone and her keys beside her and opens the bottle of water. She takes a big swig and then puts the lid back on it, hugging the bottle to her as she leans forward on the table.
“What are you doing here?” I don’t mean for my voice to sound so stiff, but this is all so weird.
She licks her lips to moisten them, which makes me think she is nervous. “I’m here to apologize to you,” she says, matter-of-fact.
I narrow my eyes, trying to make sense of this. I spend the night fighting with her boyfriend, then I post a picture on Instagram in a moment of selfish stupidity, yet she says she’s here to apologize to me? There must be a catch.
“Apologize for what?”
She blows out a quick breath but holds eye contact with me. “For kissing Ridge when I knew he was dating you. I never apologized to you. It was shitty of me and I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, still confused why she drove all the way here for an apology I’m not even in need of. “I’ve never expected an apology from you, Sydney. You weren’t the one in a relationship with me. Ridge was.”
Sydney’s mouth twitches a little, like she’s relieved I’m not full of rage, but she knows the situation doesn’t call for a smile of relief. She nods, instead. “Even still. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. I know what it feels like when someone you love betrays you. I once punched a girl in her face for sleeping with my boyfriend, and you didn’t even yell at me for falling in love with yours.”
I appreciate that she recognizes as much. “It was hard for me to figure out who to be angry at after reading all the messages,” I admit. “You both seemed to try so hard to do the right thing. But from what Ridge told me about your last relationship, that experience was a lot different than what happened between you and Ridge. Your friend and boyfriend put your feelings last with their affair, but you and Ridge seemed to at least attempt to put my feelings first.”
Sydney nods. “He cares about you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “He worries a lot. Even still.” She takes another sip from her water bottle.