“Because I’ve been adding an extra shot of tequila to each of your drinks to keep your tongue loose.”
I pointed a wobbly finger between both her faces, unsure which was the real one and which was the tricky trickster. “You clever little minx. You trix-ed me... tricked-ed-ded... tricked me. Ha! Got it on the first try.” I congratulated myself by attempting a pat on the back and wobbled on the couch before righting myself.
Cheyanne snorted, giving her head a shake. “Yeah, sure you did, drunky. Now get your shit together and stop changing the subject. I’m really upset with you right now.”
My buzz went from hardcore to sluggish as her words penetrated the haze of alcohol. Damn it, and for a millisecond there, I almost forgot my life was about to be flushed right down the shitter.
“I know,” I said on a heavy sigh. “I’m really sorry.”
She sat beside me, taking the empty glass I was currently trying to suck every last tiny bit of margarita out of and set it on the coffee table in front of us. “Babe, why didn’t you tell me? We’re best friends, we’re like family. You’re Auntie Lu-Lu to my daughter, for crying out loud.”
I covered my face, the guilt gnawing at my insides until I started to feel hollow. She’d sat there for more than an hour now, silently listening as I laid out every gory detail of the last few ugly months, the whole time the pain in her eyes growing starker. “I know,” I replied on a painful groan. “And I’ve hated keeping all of this from you. It’s been eating away at me for months.”
“Then why did you? I could have helped. You could have worked for me,” she exclaimed, saying exactly what I knew she’d say. “I would have loved to work with you, day in and day out.” Her top lip curled up in disgust. “At least then you wouldn’t have had to work in that disgusting pit.”
I tilted my head to rest it on her shoulder, feeling the slightest bit lighter. “I love you, you know that, babe, and I know you wouldn’t hesitate to help, but I feel like I need to do this on my own. I know that sounds ridiculous given the state of... well, my dumpster fire of a life right now, but it’s just how I feel, you know?” I sat up tall and shifted to face her full on. “Kind of like, I got myself into this mess, and I have to find a way to get myself out of it. Whether that’s the smart choice or not, I don’t know. It’s just what I have to do.”
She looked like she wanted to fight, like she wanted to smack me across the back of the head until I saw reason. But that wasn’t the kind of friend she was. She was the kind of friend who supported the people she loved, even if she didn’t agree with them.
“All right.” Her tone indicated she was relenting under duress. “I’ll let you do this. But”—she jabbed her finger in my face to emphasize her point—“I’m going to have your back every step of the way. No more secrets. Understand?”
“Got it,” I promised.
“And,” she stressed, expanding on her concession, “if you’re at risk of losing anything, anything, I expect you to let me help you. Understand? I won’t compromise on that.”
Honestly, I would have expected nothing less. When Cheyanne loved someone, there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for them. Sure, our relationship had changed a bit since she met and fell in love with her gorgeous, über badass fiancé, Trent Montgomery, but that was what happened when you met the person you wanted to build a life with. Still, she always made sure to make time for me and to let me know she was there if or when I ever needed her. Truth was, I counted myself lucky to be among those Cheyanne kept close to her heart. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend in all the world.
“All right, deal.” However, I had a concession of my own. I snatched my glass up and shoved it at her. “But only if you pour me another drink.”