25. Gwen

“So the trip did not go well?” Kenzie asks, swinging our joined hands as we walk up New Jersey Avenue.

Ana’s at summer softball league training, trying to recondition her body after a season off. So I’m dragging Kenzie to Catalina’s for a drink, listening to her lament about spending her day off at another bar. I sigh, wishing I could tell her everything.

“It’s complicated. But yeah, we had a fight, I guess.”

“Yes, it seems like you’ve had quite the tussle,” she taunts, poking my side where my shirt rides up with her fingernail. “Could this possibly be a hickey? On your ribs? I wonder who possibly could have caused this scandalous little thing?”

I drop her hand immediately, embarrassment heating my skin. When I twist and lift my shirt, I see what she’s referring to—an undeniable hickey, a few inches under my bra band.

“Oh, shut up,” I shush her, swatting at her side and dragging down my top. I thought I’d be safe wearing something oversized, but obviously I was wrong.

“I will absolutely not shut up,” she squeals, trying to lift my shirt back up.

“McKenzie Willard, we are in public,” I say, dancing away from her and nearly tripping over a bunch of parked e-scooters. I glare at her, but she’s fully cackling now, holding her belly because she’s laughing so hard.

“You weren’t going to tell me about this little update?” she asks, her voice still teasing.

I raise my eyebrows at her, incredulous.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, trying to organize my thoughts.

There’s no way she can know that this is a relatively recent development. Charlie and I live together. She had to assume we were sleeping together.

“Look, I’ve been very respectful and understanding of whatever arrangement you’ve got going on, but now that you’re getting laid, I’m exercising my rights as your best friend to be privy to all details, thank you,” she demands, looping her arm through mine and dragging me toward the bar.

“I don’t understand,” I admit, half a step behind her.

She yanks me forward and I have to jog to avoid falling.

“You think I don’t know when my best friend is or is not getting it?” she scoffs, obviously offended. “When you and Natalie were hooking up in the walk-in, you used to send me actual paragraphs describing your orgasms. There’s no way you wouldn’t have given me bare minimum details if you and Charlie were sleeping together. Plus, the only times I’ve seen you together, you avoided touching like you were allergic to each other.”

I yank her to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, gawking at her.

“You knew I wasn’t sleeping with Charlie and you didn’t say anything? Didn’t you think that was odd?” I should deny it, telling her Charlie and I have been head over heels for each other from the start. But the pressure of keeping this to myself has been overwhelming, and denial seems impossible anyway.

“I assumed you had your reasons.” She shrugs, acting like this truly is no big deal. “Not every relationship is about love or lust or whatever.”

I bristle at her words, immediately shrugging out of her grasp and crossing my arms.

“It’s not like that,” I start, but Kenzie interjects before I can get worked up.

“Look, I know you’ve got a complex about your mom and her endless parade of shitty, rich boyfriends. But I think you’re letting the pain she caused turn you into kind of a judgmental bitch about this, if I’m being honest,” she huffs, glaring at me in a way I’ve never seen from her before. “The reasons people choose their partners are none of our business. If someone wants to be with someone for their money, or sex, or because they’re soulmates written in the stars, that’s completely up to them. There’s nothing wrong with that, as long as no one is hurting each other. And yeah, your mom sucked because she let her choices affect you and Ana, and prioritized her partners over her children, but the choices themselves are not the problem here. And you’re doing this gross thing where lying to yourself and to me just so you don’t have to admit that maybe there are good reasons to make these kinds of decisions. So, you know, you should stop doing that.”

Kenzie is out of breath, the anger fading from her expression, replaced by a slightly embarrassed grimace. We’re both quiet for a bit, standing on opposite ends of the sidewalk, avoiding each other’s gaze.

“You’ve been wanting to say that for a while now,” I guess. My chest is tight with shame.

“Not to dig in, but it’s been bordering on slut shaming. And I know Isabelle’s a massive bitch, but it feels like you’re using this mentality to punish yourself, too.”

I wrap my arms tighter around myself, trying to fight the nausea settling in my stomach. Maybe Kenzie’s right. Maybe I was so mad at Isabelle for abandoning us, I villainized everything about her, even parts that probably didn’t deserve it.

When I was young, before Ana was born, she used to help me get dressed for school and talk about how, one day, I’d have a million outfits to pick from. That I could have a dress in every color if I wanted it. That we’d drive to the seaside and shop at the stores with pretty pastel colors in the windows whenever we wanted. She had dreams, and at some point, they included me.

Maybe there was a time when she wanted support, too. Things changed, of course. Boyfriends and fiances and husbands with money came and went, and there were never dresses or school supplies or trips for me and Ana. But maybe I took my anger too far.

“Charlie and I had an agreement,” I say under my breath, trying to swallow down this misplaced pride. “I can’t really say a lot about it, but I needed help with Ana’s bills. And he needed someone willing to marry him.”

Kenzie moves to stand directly in front of me and wraps her arms around my shoulders, hugging me tight.

“I would have said yes, too,” she whispers, squeezing me as I slip my arms around her waist. “And not just because he looks like that.”

I burst out a laugh, tears falling involuntarily down my face.

“It does help that he looks like that,” I chuckle into her shoulder, blinking back more tears. She unwinds herself from me and pulls me up the street again.

“I’m sure it was less fun when you weren’t fucking his brains out.”

I smack her on the shoulder, looking around to make sure no one heard her.

“Jesus, Kenz,” I say, trying to find the good vibes of our earlier conversation again.

“He left a hickey on your ribs, dude. That’s not even a hickey-friendly zone. You guys are having crazy sex, I can tell,” she laughs as we finally spot Catalina’s on the upcoming corner. “You can’t be all that mad at him.”

I don’t answer, mulling over how to approach this as we push the saloon doors open. Catalina’s is nearly empty, which is unsurprising for an early Wednesday afternoon. Some classic rock station plays softly over the speakers, and the decor looks even more odd in the daylight than it did all those months ago. Catalina herself is behind the bar this time, and Kenzie and I belly up right in front of her.

“Gwen, my favorite ginger,” Catalina sings, leaning over the bar to pinch my cheeks. “You’ve brought an angel into my bar with you. Did you know that?”

I warned Kenzie about Sammy and Cat’s energy, so she just smiles and holds her hand out.

“Nice to meet you, Catalina. I’m Kenzie.” Her voice is higher than usual, a faint blush creeping over her tanned cheeks.

I elbow her in the side as she and Cat exchange greetings, but she ignores me.

“Where’s our gloomy, mysterious asshole?” Cat asks, opening the dishwasher below her and drying glasses. I roll my eyes, and Kenzie laughs.

“He’s in a little bit of trouble,” Kenzie says, and I throw her a look.

“He’s not in trouble. I’m not his mother or his teacher,” I grumble, picking at the coaster in front of me. “I’m upset because he kept some important things from me, and I’m giving him space to figure out how to fix it.”

“Oh, how very mature of you,” Cat teases, stacking glasses on a tall shelf.

While her back is turned, Kenzie raises her eyebrows at me and mouths oh my god before swiveling back to stare at Cat. I can’t exactly blame her.

“I’m pissed, but not leave him pissed,” I say.

I don’t tell them I don’t even know if leaving him is an option at this point. Even if I wanted to, I’d be followed by The Syndicate for the rest of my life. More troubling, I’d be haunted by the memory of Charlie—his soft touches and gentle support, the way he kisses me like it’s a gift and fucks me like it’s his job. There’s no point in pretending I’d be willing to give him up for something he can fix.

“You two want a drink?” Cat asks, and we both order light ciders since it’s admittedly barely after breakfast on a weekday. “Has he appropriately groveled yet?”

“Oh, yes,” Kenzie cries, smacking her hand on the bartop and jolting a few of the other patrons. “Groveling is key.”

“I don’t want him to grovel,” I say, gulping down half my drink. That statement is half true. I don’t want him to grovel in this specific situation. Although, I can think of a few situations where some significant begging would be acceptable. “I want him to explain himself, and then tell me exactly what changes he’s going to make to ensure I’m not caught off guard like this again.”

“Boring,” Kenzie grumbles, and Cat laughs, making Kenzie’s face light up.

“The center of my universe, here behind this bar,” Sammy’s voice calls out as appears from the back office. He sweeps Cat up and peppers kisses up and down her jaw while she giggles.

I see Kenzie visibly deflate next to me, but as soon as he releases Cat, Sammy immediately turns to us, dropping his elbows on the bartop and his chin into his hands right in front of my best friend.

“My god, you’re an absolute showstopper,” Sammy says, smiling at Kenzie. Her eyes flash to Cat, who’s already pouring Kenzie another drink—bless her. “Catalina, my love, tell me you’ve already offered her my hand in marriage.”

Kenzie blinks rapidly, and Cat grabs Sammy by the arm, chastising him for shocking the pretty angel into speechlessness.

“I told you. They’re open,” I whisper to my friend while Sammy’s distracted by Catalina.

“I thought you meant they liked to talk or something,” Kenzie replies, her eyes wide with interest.

“Sorry, should have been more clear,” I mumble as Cat winks at Kenzie. She doesn’t seem to mind the misunderstanding, though, especially with Cat looking at her like that.

“My muse tells me we’re upset with Carlo,” Sammy breaks in, passing me and Kenzie our refills, even though Kenzie’s glass is still nearly full.

“We’re upset with a decision Carlo made, not with the man himself,” I say.

“That’s a very responsible way to think about fighting with someone you love,” Sammy replies.

I haven’t said it out loud. But even hearing it in Sammy’s voice isn’t shocking or scary. It feels like I’ve thought it a thousand times before.

“Oh my god, does she love him?” Kenzie asks, dropping her drink on the counter and staring at Sammy like he knows better than I do.

Cat scoffs, still drying and stacking glasses.

“Of course she loves him. And before you ask, he loves her too. He loved her all the way back in February,” she declares, like she’s some sort of expert on the inner workings of both of our hearts.

“Gwen deserves that whole love at first sight thing,” Kenzie says, mostly to Cat. But Sammy’s eyes are on me, probably wondering if I’m about to deny it.

I can’t, though.

“Charlie believes the universe brings him where he needs to be, with who he needs to be with. And even back then, I could see he needed you.”

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.