“Thank you. Both for doing that and for telling me.”
“You’re not mad?”
“That Justin won’t be trying to—ew, seriously, that’s too gross to even say. No, I’m not mad.”
“He’ll probably make comments about us at the wedding though, so you needed to know.”
“It’s fine, I can pretend it’s true.”
Alex started to say something else but stopped himself.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I should go back in.”
“Me too. Can I punch him when I see him?”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “As your lawyer, I’d advise against that.”
“And as my fake boyfriend?”
“Go for it.”
“Great. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Lily?”
“Yeah.”
“I really am sorry.”
I rubbed my temples after hanging up. Fucking Justin. It wasn’t bad enough that I hooked up with him once? He had to tell everyone I was going to do it again?
I took a deep breath and went back inside, where Megan immediately grabbed my wrist in a death grasp. “You’re sleeping with Alex?” she hissed.
“What?”
“Tim just texted me that Alex told everyone that you two are, like, together. What the hell, Lily?”
I peeled her fingers off my wrist and rubbed it where her nails had dug in. “I’m not sleeping with Alex. Or anyone, actually.”
“Then what was he talking about? And why was Alex calling you just now?”
“We’re friends. Justin was telling everyone he plans to hook up with me at the wedding, so Alex said that so he’d stop.” I could tell she didn’t believe me. “Honest. I’d tell you if something was going on.”
She scrutinized my face a minute longer, then sighed in relief. “Good. I mean, I want you to be happy and all. But I can’t deal with that drama at my wedding.”
“It wouldn’t be drama,” I said quietly.
“No offense, Lily, but it’s you. You know you can’t handle anything that’s actually good without sabotaging it, and Alex is one of Tim’s oldest friends. He’s not going anywhere just because you decide you don’t like him anymore. This isn’t like when we were younger and I could hate a guy just because you did.”
My lower lip trembled, and I blinked rapidly to keep from crying. “I—”
“Don’t get upset. I’m not trying to be mean. You just don’t do relationships, so it’s for the best if you aren’t sleeping with my husband’s friends. That’s all. Come on. Let’s get another drink.”
I let her pull me back toward the bar, but when she rejoined the rest of her friends, I pulled out my phone and pretended to answer a text.
“I need to go,” I told her.
“Because of what I said?”
“No,” I lied. “Amy is having an emergency about Tyler.”
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine, but—I need to go.”
“Okay,” Megan said, pulling me in for a hug that I didn’t return. “Call me tomorrow.”
I made it to the sidewalk before I began crying in earnest, then I clung to a lightpost for dear life while I tried to get myself under control enough to walk to the Metro. I swallowed a huge lump and began walking, just needing to get home.
Becca wasn’t at the apartment—it seemed like she never was anymore. I wished she were there. I needed someone to commiserate with, someone who understood.
I considered calling Alex back, but I didn’t want to interrupt Tim’s bachelor party any more than I already had, without even being there.
Megan’s comment wasn’t remotely fair—I had practically been a nun since her engagement party. A nun who cursed and drank, but men-wise, I had been so good. Yet enough of Megan’s comment rang true to scare me. I had found something good with Alex, even if it was platonic. And calling him now would lead to his coming over, which would lead to me sabotaging everything, just because Megan hurt my feelings.
I sank onto the couch, kicked off my shoes, and curled up in the fetal position.
I’d had relationships, of course. Just nothing lasting beyond six months. Not since David, when I was twenty-four. I realized with a shudder that that had somehow been eight years ago. I was Amy’s age when we were together.
I wouldn’t say David broke me, because that gave him too much credit, and the reality was that he had just never been that invested. Instead, I broke myself over him. He could waltz through my door at that exact moment, and I would, without question, tell him to get out. I didn’t want him anymore. I probably never actually wanted him. He was just so perfect on paper that I fell in love with the idea of him, not the reality. And he was such a coward in dumping me that he couldn’t admit that he just didn’t care. Instead it was all about how he needed to work on himself, but knew I was “the one” for him when he eventually got there. And idiot me believed him.