18. Sheri
18
SHERI
I feel so thoroughly ashamed of myself.
I haven’t been by the hospital for a few days, making the excuse that the boys are both sick and I don’t want to be traipsing their germs into a hospital. But the truth of the matter is that I’m too chickenshit to face Ace. And I’m pretty sure he knows it.
Despite the back-and-forth texts between us that on the surface make it seem that everything’s fine, if you read between the lines, you can tell it’s not. I know exactly how to fix what I’ve broken, I’m just too crippled with anxiety to do what needs doing.
And, on top of everything else, Leila’s pissed at me. She knows something’s up and that I’m avoiding going to the hospital; she doesn’t know what or why. So, I’ve not heard from her in a couple of days. I feel absolutely miserable and alone. The constant tears and berating myself isn’t helping, nor making me feel any less isolated.
Having only now walked through the door from dropping the boys back at school for the first time in days, I’m looking forward to a long hot soak in a scalding tub filled to the brim with bubbles. My plan, however, is nixed when the doorbell rings. Not expecting anyone, I jump at the sudden noise in the silent house.
As I retrace my steps back to the front door, I prepare my speech to send whoever might be soliciting at my door on their way. Peeking through the security peephole, I’m surprised to find Leila standing there.
“Hi,” I say, opening the door and stepping back for her to enter. “I wasn’t expecting you. Did we have a coffee date I forgot about?”
“No,” she replies, her tone clipped, a frown marring her usually happy face.
“O-kay. Coffee anyways?”
“Yeah, please.”
I stare at her for a moment, trying to fathom what’s going on but mentally shrug and head for the kitchen. We’ve all got our problems at the moment, and I’m sure she’ll spit it out soon enough.
“Have a seat.” I wave a hand vaguely toward the barstools at the island.
Long minutes of silence hang over the kitchen as I set a fresh pot of coffee to brew, not having had time to make any this morning since both boys were cranky, not wanting to go back to school today. The longer the silence stretches, the more uncomfortable I become. To the point I’m loathe to turn around and face her when the coffee is done.
In my mind — to my guilty conscience — I’m sure she’s found out about Ace and me and is here to give me hell before walking out of my life. And the longer I stand there, the worse the feeling gets. Finally, when the coffee is brewed, poured, and doctored, I can no longer delay.
Turning to face her, I find Leila staring at her clasped hands resting on the counter.
“Lee, is everything okay?” She lifts her gaze to meet mine, and she stares at me as if she’s trying to lay my soul bare.
“I don’t know, Sher. You tell me.” The sad expression in those smoky gray eyes of hers gives me pause.
I return the stare, weighing up my response. Finally, with a mental “fuck it,” I find myself saying, “You’ve obviously popped in this morning for a reason. I’m at a loss as to what it is, but whatever it is it’s got you bent out of shape. So, why don’t you just spit it out and save me the guessing game?”
Having had to deal with two grumpy boys earlier has strained my sense of humor to the breaking point, and I find myself snapping at my best friend. But dammit, she’s behaving like Luke and James. Sadness still front and center, I see her expression shift infinitesimally, irritation a sliver around the edges.
Leila accepts the proffered mug of coffee, takes a hit of caffeine, and then confirms my worst nightmare.
“Fine. I’ll ‘just spit it out’ then, shall I?” She takes another mouthful of coffee, then pierces me with that sad gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Ace?”
At the risk of sounding dramatic, I can honestly say it feels as if the ground beneath my feet shifts. I reach out a hand to steady myself on the counter and stare at her like she’s just grown a second head out of her shoulder.
“I — you — what ...” I take a deep breath in an attempt to squeeze air into my suddenly malfunctioning lungs. For all that, all I finally manage is a rather weak, “What?”
Jumping to her feet, Leila paces away from me to the window that looks out onto the front lawn. She stands there for long moments, her hands resting on her hips. Her body’s dead still, I can barely see her breathing. But I don’t mistake her posture for calm or relaxed. If I know my girl — and I do — she’s formulating her next move.
My heart pounding in my chest with the intensity of a thunderstorm, all I can do is stand watching my friend carefully plan her attack. If there’s one thing I know about Leila, it is that she can strike with the precision of a brain surgeon. And all I can do is wait for it.
“It’s taken me a little while as I attempted to process the hurt, the anger, and the understanding. But I’ve failed miserably on all fronts.”
Strike one successfully executed.
I’m almost one hundred percent certain now she’s figured Ace and me out. For the life of me though, I can’t figure out how. We’ve been so careful.
“What do you mean?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were in love with him?” This time the hurt bleeds into her voice, and I feel a lump form in my throat.
Strike two successfully executed.
Leila turns around, and her eyes remind me of those sad, pleading emojis. God, this woman should be working for the military or FBI. She could probably crack the hardest criminal with that look. I can’t seem to push words past the damn lump, so I simply swallow and stare back at her, trying to convey my apology with my own eyes.
“Jesus, Sheri. After everything we’ve been through together, I would have thought you knew you could come to me with this.”
Strike three successfully executed.
So successfully, it feels like she’s cracked my chest open like a nut and scooped out the tender flesh inside with a grapefruit spoon. Tears fill my eyes, and I have to bite my lip to prevent a cry of pain leaking past my lips.
I hang my head and breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, as if I were doing a spinning class at the gym. My heart’s pounding, there’s a ringing in my ears, and I feel quite lightheaded. Yes, I get that her having figured it out, however that happened, has hurt her, but holy shit, that was one powerful direct hit. Bull’s-eye, right in the heart.
A soft hand on my upper arm anchors me. “I’m sorry,” Leila whispers. “I’m just so angry at you — and Ace — but mostly you. Hurt to the bone. But that was no reason to flay you open like that too.”
I turn into her and wrap my arms around her, resting my head on her shoulder. After a beat, she wraps me up in a tight embrace. We stand like that for a long time, neither of us saying a word out loud, but communicating silently through our hug.
After who knows how long, I sigh. Stepping back, I take her hand and lead her over to the sofa. Once we’re seated, I take a deep breath. Then another.
“I am so, so sorry. More than you’ll ever know. It was never my intention to hurt you. And I certainly didn’t mean for you to find out from anyone other than me. All I ask is that you give me an opportunity to tell my side of the story. Will you hear me out?”
“Yeah. I’d actually really like to hear yours.” Though still sad, the irritation — or, perhaps, it had been anger — is thankfully gone from her gaze.
It takes a second for her words to sink in. “What do you mean mine?” My stomach plummets to somewhere around my toes. “Have you already spoken to Ace?”
Leila nods. “I’ll tell you all about it once you’re done.”
Knowing nothing will sway her, I steel myself to spill my tightly held secret. “Before I tell you, I just want to say one thing.” She nods again. “I knew that if I came to you with how I felt about Ace, you’d have been happy for me?—”
“Ecstatic,” she interrupts.
“I know, and I love you for it. But that’s exactly why I never said anything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Leila, I couldn’t have loved a biological sister more than I do you. It’s just like you said in the kitchen. We’ve been through hell on earth together and kept each other going. Forged the strongest bond, loved each other whole again — well, as whole as we could get with pieces of ourselves missing.
“Sis, there’s no way I was willing to jam you right in the middle between Merlin and the guys and me.” Leila gives me a seriously confused look. “Let me ask you this. If Ace and I had told everyone we were in love and things went sideways, what do you think would have happened?”
Before she can reply, I continue. “The guys would have cut me off, the same way they did you, and knowing you, you would have stood by me.”
“Damn straight, I would have. But that wouldn’t have happened. The guys learned their lesson the hard way, from doing it to me.”
“And if it had? I would have lost ninety-eight percent of my support structure and put you solidly in the middle of the conflict, forcing you to choose sides. And I could never do that to you. I love you too much to do that.”
Leila opens her mouth to say something, but then changes her mind. I can see she’s giving my words thought. “Dammit,” she says eventually. “I hate that it makes sense. But babe, I need you to listen to me. I mean really listen. Okay?”
I worry about what’s about to come out of her mouth next, but regardless of what it is, I at least owe her that much.