I feel so low. So unworthy of what Dean and I almost had. “Until he brought it up tonight, I’d never really thought about it again. I was so self-involved and full of self-pity. It never crossed my mind how those words would make him feel.” I press my palms to my hot cheeks. “I don’t even believe it. I was just . . . I should never have said such an awful thing out loud.”
Brinley squeezes my shoulder. “So when you saw texts from Amy and then caught her in his bed and assumed the worst, he immediately connected your assumptions to what you said that night about guys who are raised without fathers.”
I nod vigorously, tears rolling down my cheeks. Stella pours the drink she’s been shaking into a martini glass and passes it to me. “Thanks,” I manage.
“You two just need to talk,” Brinley says. “Explain yourself.”
I sniffle. “He said a lot of things tonight that I need to think about. We do need to talk, but I need to figure myself out first. I need to . . . figure my life out.”
Brinley cocks her head to the side. “Your life?”
More tears spill down my cheeks. “I want to open my own bakery, but I’m scared it’ll be a bust and I’ll have left you and a great job for nothing. And I don’t want to lose you because you’re such a great friend.”
Brinley’s face falls and she pulls me into her arms. “Girl, I’m your friend first. That doesn’t change if you stop working for me.” She laughs and glances to Stella. “Just ask her.”
Stella nods. “True story.”
“I don’t know if I have the courage it takes to open a business. I need a business loan and a plan, and if I fail, everyone will see.” I can’t believe I’m talking about this right now. A reasonable person would’ve chosen a moment when she wasn’t having an emotional breakdown to tell her best friend/boss she might be leaving.
“If you fail, you’ll try again,” Stella says. “Until you don’t want to anymore or can’t. And if that day comes, we’ll all be here for you.”
I squeeze her so tightly. I’m grateful for my friends. I’m so lucky to have them.
They keep me company until later than they should, given that we all have work tomorrow, but I’m lighter when they leave. That hardened, scarred part of me that Layla accused me of putting front and center has retreated to her corner, and the hopeful part of me—the one that’s willing to give me some grace for my mistakes—has come out of hiding.
I look at my phone for the first time in hours and see a text message. My heart flips before I see it’s not from Dean.
Number Unknown: Hi, Abbi. This is Frankie, aka Date Destroyer. I hope you don’t mind that I got your number from one of your employees from work. I just wanted to apologize for last night. I didn’t intend to make things awkward between you and your date. Actually, I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone. I wouldn’t have been so forward if I’d known.
I don’t know how serious things are between you and that guy, but I wanted to take this moment when I’m feeling a little braver than usual and let you know that I really like you, and I’d love to take you out. Maybe that’s stating the obvious, but I can never really get a read on you.
Ignore this if you’re not interested or if you’ve got something serious going, but I figured I’d rather try than wonder.
I laugh then cringe reading the message. Even Frankie, this guy I thought I was totally flirting back with all these months, wasn’t sure if I was interested. Didn’t Dean tell me I practically had FUCK OFF written on my forehead?
Also, I’m totally going to have a chat with my employees about giving out my number.
I carefully compose my reply, trying my best to keep it honest but kind.
Abbi: Hey, Frankie. I’m sorry about last night. That was awkward. I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us. I was looking forward to going out with you sometime, but then life happened, and I found myself head over heels in love with my brother’s best friend. I’m not sure what will happen there, but regardless, I’m in no place to be dating someone else. Take care.
I send the message then pull up the thread between me and Dean. I should probably leave him alone, but I keep thinking about how many times he said he loved me before he walked out my door. I keep thinking that if he loves me, maybe we can fix this.
I love you too, I type. Then I make myself delete it. I’ll tell him, but I need to fix myself first.