"I was hoping you'd have some ideas."
"You know her better than I do. God, Dusty, I haven't seen her in years. What's she like these days?"
"The same, but different." I mull the concept of Brooke over, as if she could be described in a single sentence. "She's just… her. She married some guy, some asshole that cheated on her. Now, she's divorced. She's got a great job and a team that would fight wars for her. Oh, she's got a cat, too. Huey."
"Huey? Like, as in Lewis and the News?" My sister laughs. "That's so her."
"I think I love her, Alicia."
Silence hangs between us. I check to make sure my phone didn't drop the call, but the timer keeps counting the seconds.
"Did you tell her?" Her voice is soft and wistful, like she's scared of what I might say.
"Yes." I hope I made the right choice.
"Did she say anything back?"
"She said she loves me, too."
Brooke
Janinesitsonmyloveseat, petting Huey, absolutely dumbstruck. Her wide brown eyes stare at me, unblinking.
"What?"
"What do you mean,what?You fucking idiot!" she whisper-yells. "You drop the L-bomb, and you only tell me now? Do you hate me?"
"No! What? No!" I wring my hands. "It was just… it was just so much, Janine. It was so good. He makes me feel alive again—like everything might be okay. Like I can do this. I havebeendoing this! And maybe it all won't come crashing down?"
"First of all, you do not need a man to feel alive. And if you do, I'd like to introduce you to averyluxurious line of battery-operated boyfriends. Mine is named Steve." She looks at me pointedly.
"Who could forget Steve?" I mumble. "Remember when you used him as a fake microphone for drunken karaoke?"
"Yes, I do." She smiles happily. "He's multifaceted."
"A true renaissance man." I pause and pick at a hangnail on my thumb. "And I don'tneeda man to feel alive. It's just… I don't know. I don't know how to explain it."
"So fuckin' try, bitch."
I sigh. How can I explain that Dustin is… Dustin? He's the same person he's always been, just more mature. He listens. He learns. He helped me bake for Fiona's birthday. He's held me while I cry over fuckingCalvin, of all people, multiple times. Damn it all, he just makes me happy. He makes me feel capable, which I already know I am.
Dustin would never make me feel like a checkbox on his life plan. He'd never stick his nose up at my baking. He'd never belittle my career aspirations—he'd be right there behind me, cheering me on the whole way. And I want to cheer him on, too. I want to be a team with him, like I never was with Calvin. He's the polar opposite of Calvin in pretty much every way.
"He makes me happy," is all I can force out.
"Well, thank fuck for that." She grimaces. "I need a drink. What do you have around here?"
"Brooke?" Ricky tentatively knocks at my door. Uncharacteristically polite for him. "You have a visitor."
"She sure does," Janine calls out. "Got any liquor, Rick?"
"For you? Always," Ricky says as he slams open my door. "That guy is back, too."
"Uh, hi." Dustin edges himself around Ricky and into my room.
Jesus, God, and Mary. This is not the Thursday night I was imagining. I drop my head into my hands and groan. "Thank you, Ricky."
"Y'know what? I think I need to help you find the liquor." Janine hops up from my couch and smiles warmly at Ricky, which is a weird thing to see. Does she know hedrinksspaghetti sauce?
