“Thanks.”
Penny pushed down the guilt she felt, picking up her pace instead. While it was true that Bonnie’s words about Carson had stung, in every other way, she’d been a good friend. She was there to listen and encourage. She was the one who talked her into pursuing her master's. When Penny doubted herself, Bonnie believed in her. They had spent so many nights together crying over sad movies, laughing over their own personal jokes, and just being there for each other.
Bonnie had chosen her over everyone to come on this trip. Penny knew she was her closest friend.
And yet… Bonnie still didn’t think she was good enough for Finn. She couldn’t have been much clearer about it the way she blocked Penny from even getting near him again. Penny didn’t have her friend’s natural good looks, her seemingly careless style, her bright smile and easy laugh. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t good enough.
She’d also changed over the last three years while they were apart. She had worked so hard on who she was. She’d taken up yoga, exercising, and even gone to a therapist for God’s sake. What she looked like was part of that. But there was more. She knew she was a good teacher. She loved teaching her kids, loved developing relationships with them. She knew she was a good team player with her fellow teachers, offering support and sharing ideas. She’d learned how to laugh and not take herself so seriously. When it came to her professional life, she had confidence. It was her personal life where she was still failing.
Still, why couldn’t Bonnie, her best friend, see she was good enough? The last thing she would ever do was hurt Finn. She knew how that felt and would never want to inflict that on him.
These thoughts carried Penny through the rest of the day and into the next. Again, she woke early, this time going for a run immediately. Then she came home only to shower and change before heading out to spend the rest of her day hiding in bookstores and cafes.
On her second day out, she brought her journal with her, adding to the story she’d started and recreating that night in the churchyard with Finn, reliving it as both true and fictional—changing it just enough that she could get caught up in the emotions and relive them while still keeping them at a safe distance.
She didn’t want to admit to herself that a new panic was growing. Always in front of her on the café table was her phone. The one that remained ominously silent. She’d picked it up ahundred times already, starting to text. She’d tried funny texts, flirty texts, and ones that were sincere. Each she’d deleted, not trusting it to say what she wanted, continuously hoping that at any minute Finn would text her.
By the third morning, major guilt had kicked in. Yes, she still felt slighted by Bonnie, but more than that, she loved her friend. She knew she was behaving childishly. She was sulking, and she was pretty sure Bonnie didn’t even know why. Painfully, she’d also begun to wonder if Bonnie was right. Maybe she wasn’t good enough, or at least right for Finn. Because he still hadn’t called or texted.
Penelope still got up early for a run, her inner conflict with her every step of the way, until she knew what the more important thing to do was. Immediately after her shower, she headed for the sunroom.
“Hey, Bon,” she called in greeting as she entered the glass room.
Bonnie was already curled up in front of her laptop. Her usually shiny hair was dull and pulled up in a tangled ponytail. She appeared smaller than usual, wearing an oversized sweatshirt that looked suspiciously like Felix’s.
“Where were you last night?” Penny asked. “You were gone when I came back from the café.”
Bonnie didn’t look up. “I didn’t go anywhere. I was in bed.”
“At seven o’clock in the evening?” Penny could hear the concern in her own voice as her guilt kicked into double time. Her heart was breaking at this pathetic version of her usually bubbly friend.
Bonnie simply nodded.
“Oh. You feeling okay?” She realized what a stupid question it was as soon as it came out. Here she was focusing on herown minor problems, completely forgetting the reason they had come.
“Sure,” Bonnie answered, her voice lacking emotion.
“Sorry I wasn’t around much the last couple days. Just trying to get my bearings and give you some time to work.”
Her words fell flat. They both knew that was a lie.
“No problem.” Still, Bonnie didn’t look up.
“Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee?” Penny offered.
In return, she finally got a tight-lipped smile. And the chance to see the dark rings under Bonnie’s eyes. “No, thanks. I’m fine. Just doing what you said, getting some work done.”
“Oh, right. Well, do you mind if I hang out in here?” She pointed tentatively to her usual spot. “I’ll be quiet. I’ve been writing a bit again. I forgot how much I enjoy it.” She offered it as something personal, hoping it would earn her a connection.
“Suit yourself,” came the monotone response.
Penny headed upstairs to grab her journal and a book. Then she returned to sit contritely on her couch, hoping for a chance to redeem herself.
It did not come readily.
She offered food, more tea, conversation, and blankets. Not all at once, but at moments when she thought they might be needed, only to be rejected each time. She knew she’d been a crappy friend the past couple days and waited out her punishment patiently.
The next day offered more of the same. Only this time, she didn’t just feel the shame of being a bad friend; she felt genuinely worried. Bonnie hadn’t eaten more than a bit of toast, and even that she’d done more to shut Penny up than anything.
