“You said, and I quote, ‘literally squished to death.’ Do you remember that? Not to mention, Ruby can worry about you and worry about all that other stuff at the same time. Since, you know, she’s not being squished to death by her responsibilities and job and life in general. She cares about you. She’d wring your neck if she knew you were making the decision of whether or not she should worry for her.”
Oof. That’s… correct. “I’m a bad friend.”
“You’re not a bad friend,” Frank replies gently. “You’re just a person, you know? People get in their feels and make silly choices and go down paths that maybe aren’t the best they could’ve chosen. It’s a natural part of life. If you’ve messed up? It’s fixable. Especially if the worst you’ve done is simply not ask for help.”
I hiccup again, then sniffle. “I don’t deserve help,” I mutter.
“And your friends don’t deserve to be shut out from your life, thoughts, and emotions just because you have a warped view of your own self-worth,” Frank retorts, not unkindly. “Don’t punish your friends to punish yourself, is all I’m saying. Let them be apart of your life, for better or for worse. Don’t take the honor of lifting you up when you’re crushed under the weight of life away from them. Don’t make that decision for them.”
She hands me a cocktail napkin, and I use it to wipe my face off, then another appears for me to blow my nose in. “You’re really smart,” I tell her. “They should pay you more.”
“My salary is enough to support me, my husband, and our mildly rabid chihuahua,” she says wryly. “Plus, I don’t think they increase artist salaries for things like unsolicited life advice.”
“Well, they should,” I assert. “I’ll write an email to the powers that be for you.”
She chuckles. “Let’s first work on your thing, then later we can address my thing, which is not actually a thing at all, because Liam pays meverywell.”
“Okay,” I hiccup. “How about you go tell my bestest bestie in the entire world that I’m a secretive loser who doesn’t know how to adult properly and I could use some hashtag support, and I will go… uh… anywhere else while Ruby adjusts to this news?”
“Nope,” she pops, hooking her arm through mine and dragging me back to Ruby, who’s changed into her regular clothes and is filling up a plate with complementary—bless Liam Warrick—appetizers in the kitchen.
“Ruby!” Frank calls, pushing me past the counter and blocking the exit. “Elodie wants to talk to you!”
Ruby turns to me, lips upturned at the edges, practically transcendent in her joy and I… I fall into my bestie’s arms, burst into tears, and blab my whole, shameful story, ruining her outfit and, probably, our friendship in one fell swoop.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Remind me not to go on a road trip with Roman.
Elodie
Four days after breaking down in Ruby’s arms, telling her about my classes, my worries, my stress, and my incredible stupidity in attempting to handle everything myself, I stand in front of her again, crying for an entirely different reason.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” I wail. “I’ll text you every day, and I’ll get you lots of souvenirs!”
She pats my back, placating. “It’s four days. And you’re going to Bandera, West Virginia. What souvenirs could they possibly have to offer?”
“There’s a really nice crystal shop. I could get you a pretty rock the size of your head!”
“She doesn’t need a pretty rock the size of her head,” Roman sighs. “What she needs is for you to leave her alone so that she can hug her favorite brother goodbye.”
“Wait your turn,” I hiss, squishing my friend tighter.
“I can’t breathe,” Ruby wheezes, and I loosen my hold. Whoops.
“Do you want the rock?” I ask. “It could be your something blue!”
“I don’t want the rock,” she says. “The only gift I want is for you to get there safely, spend the weekend decompressing, and then come back home relaxed and restored to me.”
Ah, yes.Relaxed and Restored,her new motto for me. After my drunken hysterics, she went into hyperdrive on fix-it mode,even going so far as to create color-coded spreadsheets with detailed plans for helping me unwind. After this trip, we have regular check-ins scheduled specifically to make sure I don’t let myself fall back into the pits alone.
Gripping her forearms as I pull away, I nod. “I can try.”
“Can I have a turn now?” Roman asks. “She’smysister, you know.”
“I’ll hug you,” Will offers, grinning at Roman. “Come to Will.”
Roman’s eyes roll, but he does hug Will, slapping his back with a grunt as he mutters a gruff, “Love you.”
