Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Scarlett
T he shrill sound of my best friend’s voice through the door to my apartment sends me flying off the couch where I had parked myself last night watching Dirty Dancing and eating moose track ice cream. Obviously, I fell asleep.
“I’ve called and knocked and got nothing, open this door right now, Scarlett!”
I glance with one eye at my phone beside me and, sure enough, seven missed calls. A knock sounds again as I groan and stand. “I’m coming, Anna. You’re gonna get me kicked out of my apartment with all your yelling,” I say loud enough for her to hear.
When I open the door, Anna stands there in her favorite T-shirt that reads You thought it, but I said it. I step aside so she can come in and she promptly drops her things on the chair in the living room before kicking her shoes off and getting comfortable on the couch. I shut and lock my door back, and then plop back down beside her.
She simply stares at me and I know she’s trying to decide where to start. “What?” I ask.
She smiles then. “Let’s skip past the part where I high-five you for slapping that wench Eric was sleeping with and go straight to the part where when I left the church, I saw you with Mr. Hottie-But-Grumpy-Photographer.”
“Oh. That,” I say as I grab my blanket and cover back up. “He took some pictures of me. We talked some. He wanted to make sure I was okay because he’s been through something similar. That’s why he seems so grumpy,” I tell her, trying to steer the conversation to something other than my humiliation.
“Uh-huh. What kind of pictures did he take of you? Anything interesting?” she asks, waggling her brows suggestively.
I swat at her leg, and she laughs. “Anna, you’re terrible,” I say while laughing too.
“There she is,” Anna says, her eyes crinkle in the corners as she smiles at me.
“Who?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“Scarlett Shepard, my best friend. The girl who never backs down from a dare and has the most contagious laugh I’ve ever heard.”
I roll my eyes and get up. “Do you want some coffee? I need some,” I say.
“What? You know me, and you know I won’t let you stay in the trenches of sadness for long. I know you loved Eric, and even though he wasn’t my favorite person, I’m truly sorry he hurt you. But just in case you were wondering, I like him even less now. And yes, I’ll take some coffee with you,” Anna says.
While I start up the coffee pot, Anna comes into the kitchen too and sits at the counter watching me.
“Anna, you know I hate it when you get all serious on me. That’s my job,” I tell her.
“I know. But I also want you to know I’m here for you. Just because I didn’t like the guy doesn’t mean you can’t cry on my shoulder about how things played out. You’re my best friend. And I know you’re hurting,” she says softly.
I smile at her and come around to where she sits on the stool. Her embrace feels safe as always and a sob escapes from me that I didn’t give permission to bubble up from where I buried it. She does the same, because when people really love and care about you, they feel all the sadness and happiness with you. Having a relationship like that with a friend, lover, or family member makes you comfortably vulnerable. I hug her until the smell of coffee permeates the air. When I pull back and swipe under my eyes, I say, “Thank you for always having my back, tootsie-wootsie.”
“Always and forever, hunny-bunny,” she says with a smile.
“So can you elaborate on these pictures?” she asks with a wink, swiping under her eyes too.
I pour our coffee in two mugs and add some cream and sugar before passing hers over to her. “Come back to the couch of shame and I’ll tell you. I need to get comfortable for this conversation,” I tell her.
She spits her coffee back in her mug and wipes the dribble from her chin before turning back to find my eyes. “Couch of shame? As in you did the walk of shame? As in you slept with him?”
I carefully set my coffee mug on a coaster beside me on the end table and face Anna again. “Um, yeah,” I admit, averting my eyes from hers.
She grabs my hands after setting her coffee on the opposite end table. “Details. Now,” she says quickly, practically ordering me to confess my sins.
I cover my face and laugh. “Why did I think this would stay a secret?” I ask aloud.
“No clue, because me and you, we don’t have secrets. Now stop stalling and dish,” she says as she gestures with her hands between us.
“Okay, okay. He found me watching the sun set on the lake and told me he could still make the day magical if I wanted it to be,” I say first.
“I bet he did too,” she laughs.
I swat at her leg again playfully and add, “I’m telling this story.”
She raises her hands as if to concede her shenanigans.
“He said we could do a photo shoot where I trashed the dress,” I tell her.
“Trash the dress?” she asks.
“Yep. My wedding dress. It’s toast. He had me walk in the water, and by the time he took those pictures, my dress was weighted down and wet. I figured that was all he had in mind until he said we could add a little paint to finish it off for good.”
“Paint? This is getting good,” Anna says while beaming at me.
“Yeah, he ended up calling a friend who has a studio they’re remodeling, and they gave him permission to use it for our paint-filled impromptu photo shoot. We grabbed pizza, and when we got there, I realized it was a recording studio,” I tell her.
“How interesting,” she says. “Who is this mystery singer in his life?”
I shrug my shoulders. “All I know is she’s his friend.”
“So, he does have friends of the opposite sex, yeah?” she asks.
I laugh at her. “It would seem so. Anyway, long story short, he had some paint he’d recently used at his bar with him, and we used it on my dress.”
I’m quiet as I sip more coffee, waiting on her to process and ask her next question.
Her eyes widen with my silence. “Well, where is the trashed dress now?”
“I’m not sure. I told him he could keep it,” I say, not caring whether he did or didn’t.
“And how exactly did you get out of the dress? It wasn’t the easiest feat putting it on…it took me, you, and your mom,” she adds.
I just grin as she sits with her mouth open and I finally push it closed with my finger under her chin.
“You went from celibacy to what? A one-night stand? Are you seeing him again?” Anna asks all at once.
“Oh no. I won’t be seeing him again. Not romantically anyway. I told him I’d let him know when and if I want the pictures he took. If I decide I don’t want them, I won’t have any reason to see him at all,” I say as much to her as myself.
“Right, you’re telling me you wouldn’t love to see that gorgeous man again, especially after he made your wrecked day a magical one. Okay, noted. My best friend is delusional, or in denial. At this point I’m not sure,” she says, while acting like she’s writing on her hand.
I throw a pillow at her, and she bursts out laughing. “Was it at least good?”
“Oh my gosh, Anna. You don’t need a play-by-play. But yes, it was good,” I admit aloud and feel heat rush to my cheeks.
“Just good?” Anna asks whimsically.
It’s my turn to laugh at her and then I close my eyes. “Okay, Anna. Yes, he was amazing. The man knew what he was doing and left me in awe of what we’d just done. But it was a split-second decision in the heat of the moment. It was a choice I made to keep me from crumbling after learning my ex-fiancé had been sleeping with another woman for the better part of a year. I needed…I don’t know what exactly. I needed to feel wanted. And I did for one night,” I tell her.
She tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “No matter how he did it, I’m glad he could make you forget your heartbreak for a little while. I’ll take over from here. I promise, it’ll get better. You deserve someone who makes you feel beautiful, wanted, and that your heart is safe. You’ll have that and more. I know it,” she says as she squeezes my hand.
I sniffle as a tear escapes, and I quickly swipe it away. “What movie do you want to watch with me?”
Anna gets comfortable as I grab the remote. “You’re driving, hunny-bunny. I’m along for the ride.”
“I’ll never steer us wrong, tootsie-wootsie,” I answer as we search for the perfect movie to make us fall in love with love again.