His jaw drops. Half a second later, anger floods his expression.
“No,” I interject, holding up my hand. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to think badly of him.”
“How can I not?” he growls.
“He made a mistake. Honestly, he’s not a bad guy. He freaked out because things were getting too serious. Just such a typical guy thing.”
Except…Ryder hasn’t freaked out on me once.
He was the one who told me he loved me. He said it first. He wasn’t scared to, and he didn’t run screaming when I returned the sentiment.
I don’t know if Case ever truly loved me. Not only because he cheated. But because he was content—we both were—to date for nearly two years without exchanging I love yous.
“‘A typical guy thing,’” Dad echoes, amused.
“Yeah, it’s like the second they feel like they’re being locked down, they experience this overwhelming urge to go and spray their seed everywhere.”
“Stan, please don’t say the words spray and seed in my presence again.”
I snort. “Anyway. That’s why it was never going to work.”
“I get it.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “If you’d just told me this months ago, I would have let it go.”
“Oh, it’s that easy to shut you up?”
“It is.” He rounds the counter and slings his arm around me.
Mom returns to the kitchen and eyes us in amusement. “What’s going on?”
“Case cheated on Gigi,” reveals Dad.
She gasps. “No.”
“Yes,” I tell her, “but it’s over now because I’m in love with somebody else. So, let’s all just move on.”
Dad starts to cough.
“In love with somebody else, huh?” Mom teases. She turns to Dad. “See? I told you.”
He looks ill now. “Of all the men out there…”
“Come on. Ryder’s great,” I assure him.
He’s more than great.
He’s everything.
That hard exterior hides the kind of man I’m honored to be with. A man I trust enough to show every ounce of vulnerability to. A man who hears me when I gently point out a flaw and tries to alter his behavior. A man who makes me desperately happy even when I’m feeling sad.
“All right, Gigi, there’s an hour before the mall closes,” Mom says. “Did you still want to come along while I pick up Allie’s birthday gift?”
“Sure,” I say, and we head out.
We get to the mall at eight thirty, right before closing time. While Mom ducks into the jewelry store to pick up the custom pendant she got for my aunt’s birthday, I stand near a planter and text with Ryder, who’s sneaking in messages during intermission.
“Gigi?”
I glance up, then freeze. Tension fills me when I see Emma Fairlee sauntering up to me.
Oh, man. I am so not in the mood for this. The last time we crossed paths was at a party thrown by a mutual friend the summer after I started college. Emma and I stood on opposite sides of the house the entire night. Neither of us seemed interested in approaching the other, so I’m surprised she’s interested now.
She looks as beautiful as ever. Shiny hair. Perfect eyebrows. Pink lip gloss slathered on pouty lips, and designer clothing plastered to her perfect body.
Emma closes the distance between us. She has a couple of shopping bags dangling off one arm.
“Emma,” I say carefully. “Didn’t know you were in town.”
“Yeah, I’m visiting my dad for the weekend.”
The reminder of her father brings a clench of frustration, because would it kill the man to reach some sort of decision about the national team? It’s taking ages and I’m getting impatient for news.
“How wild is it that he took over Team USA?” she gushes.
There’s genuine pride in her eyes, and it succeeds in disarming me. Just slightly.
“Amazing news,” I agree, nodding. “He’s a great coach. He’s going to do well there.”
“How about you? Are you doing well?”
“Yep, you know, keeping busy as usual. I heard you got a role in a television pilot? That’s cool.”
Her eyes flash for a second. “It didn’t get picked up.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that.”
“Are you?”
I smother a sigh. Here we go.
Her tone becomes chilly. “Because I’m sure it makes you happy to hear that.”
“Okay, don’t put this on me,” I say, taking a step away. “I don’t care what you’re doing in LA. I was just being polite.”
Her cheeks redden. One thing about Emma, she doesn’t like to feel dismissed. And that’s precisely what I’m doing right now.
“I have to go. My mom’s waiting for me.”
I’ve barely taken two steps when her voice bites at my back. “You know, you’re a real bitch.”
I turn, baring my teeth in a cheerless smile. “Oh, I am, am I?”
“You don’t need to talk to me like I’m a piece of gum under your shoe. We were best friends, Gigi.”
I stalk over to her. “Yes, Emma. We were best friends.”
“We were supposed to have each other’s backs,” she spits out, eyes glittering. “And you just let your brother humiliate me.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “Seriously? Tell me, how did he humiliate you? Did he dump you in front of everyone at a party? Did he tell you he loved you and then bang somebody else? Like how? Because if memory serves me, he was considerate enough to sit you down in person and tell you he wasn’t interested in a commitment. You’re the one who couldn’t handle it and decided to try to destroy my entire family.”
“Okay, now you’re being melodramatic. I didn’t destroy shit.”
“Really. So you were doing me a solid when you got naked and crawled into my dad’s bed?”
She has the decency to look embarrassed. “Look, I apologized for that.”
“Actually, you didn’t,” I say with an incredulous laugh.
“Yes, I did,” she insists.
“No, Emma, you didn’t, and no amount of rewriting history will change that. You didn’t apologize for anything. You went batshit on us. Shared personal messages, things that I told you in confidence, with everyone at school. Trashed me on social media. And now you’re standing here telling me I’m somehow to blame for it? Not once did you show any remorse.”
I’m so fucking frustrated. I force myself to draw a deep breath, suddenly realizing I don’t want to do this. I don’t owe her this conversation. I owe her nothing. Ryder’s voice fills my head, reminding me I’m allowed to feel what I feel, even if it’s hatred.
And the truth is, I don’t want to make amends with Emma because some things just aren’t mendable. She clearly hasn’t matured at all in three years. Still trying to brush her own actions aside and make me feel crazy for being pissed at her.
“We’re not friends, Emma.” I let out a drained breath. “So, please, just leave me the hell alone. You do you and I’ll do me. And let’s keep our friendship where it belongs: in the past.”