Page 76 of The Best Friend Problem
“Finn loves me.”
Her roommates glanced at her as if she were growing two heads instead of two babies.
Lilly patted her hand. “Of course he does.”
“You knew?”
Mo snorted. “Everyone knows. Anyone who’s spent more than two minutes in your presence can see that man is head over heels for you. Always has been.”
What the hell?
“B-b-but he goes on so many dates!”
Mo snorted. “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.”
“Come on.” Lilly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her toward the front doors. “I feel like this is a discussion better had at home.”
But they didn’t finish the conversation at home. Because Pru went directly to her room and stayed there the entire night, curled up on her bed, rubbing her stomach and second-guessing every word she’d uttered in that exam room.
…
Over the next few days, she went over what Finn said to her about a million times in her head. What had he meant by they were still friends but not an “us”? She wanted to ask him to clarify, but he hadn’t called or texted. She hadn’t heard one word from him since he left the urgent care.
She hadn’t tried to contact him, either. She’d thought about it a dozen times every hour, even composed a few texts, but she didn’t have the guts to send them. For the first time in all their years of friendship, he wanted something from her she didn’t think she could give him. Every time she imagined what it would be like to share her life fully with Finn, fear reached up and choked her.
On Thursday, three days after the urgent care visit, she came home from putting flowers on her parents’ and Aunt Rose’s graves, a visit she made monthly. But this time she felt different as she stared at the dark gray slabs etched with the names and dates of the people she’d loved and lost.
Losing them had torn a hole in her, shaped her entire life, but so had their love. Did the pain of their loss negate the years of love she still held in her heart for them? Was Finn right? Was she just letting the fear of loss cloud her mind to what she truly felt deep in her heart?
All this emotional upheaval was exhausting.
She needed a nap.
Unfortunately, the moment she stepped into her apartment, she saw Lilly and Mo standing in the living room, staring at her, their body language tense. Her nap would have to wait.
“Hey, guys.” She shifted nervously at the serious expression on both of her roommates’ faces. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on,” Mo said, “is an intervention.”
Lilly sighed. “It’s not an intervention, Moira. It’s a conversation.”
“This is a safe space,” Mo continued dramatically, opening her arms, a wobbly smile on her face. “We’re concerned about you.”
“She’s right on that point,” Lilly agreed.
Pru tried to smile, but it fell flat. “I’m fine.”
Her friends shared a look. Mo came over to her, gently grabbing her arm and leading her to the sofa, where the three women sat.
“You’re not fine. You’ve been mopey all week.”
“I have not been mopey!” Sad, confused, scared? Yes. But not mopey.
“Just tell us what’s wrong, sweetie.” Lilly patted her hand.
The storm of emotions she’d been holding inside for the past few days broke like a dam. Her friends’ concern tore down that last bit of resistance she’d been holding onto. Releasing a deep breath, she told them everything Finn had said to her that night at urgent care.
“Sounds about right,” Lilly stated, when she finished.
