Page 34 of Instigator

“I’d never do that. I don’t care what you look like. I care who you are.”

“And I’m the type of guy who ghosted you because I couldn’t find the courage to confront my fears.” He lets out a grunt of frustration. “I’m not like that. Except now apparently I am. I shut down. Is that what you want to hear? That I curled up in a ball on the floor of my shower on the verge of a panic attack? That I was so anxious over it, I puked three times that night? That I’m so sick to my stomach, I’ve barely slept since?”

“Wish…”

“I’m sorry, okay?” he snaps. “I’m sorry I’m such a fucking mess I couldn’t bring myself to meet you in person. That I ghosted. That I hurt you.” His voice cracks. “I never wanted to hurt you, Annie.”

“I know you didn’t.”

But he did. And I don’t know if I can forgive that.

“I think I’m going to sign off for the night,” I finally say. “I need some space.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his pain audible. “I’m so sorry.”

“Okay.”

I’m not about to let him off the hook. Not so easily. Not when he could have just said he was having doubts. Not when he could have told me he wouldn’t be there, up-front and honest. Not when I could have talked him through the panic attack, helped him work through it.

But he didn’t reach out. He withdrew.

And that’s what hurts the most. He didn’t trust me. He didn’t believe I was worthy of confiding in. For the last seven years, he’s been my constant, my support network. But he didn’t allow me to be the same for him.

Why not? Does he not trust me? Does he not think I’m as invested in this friendship as he is?

One thing’s for certain: I may forgive him, but I won’t forget. The trust I had in him has fractured, and I don’t know if it can ever be truly repaired.

Book club has always been a safe place. A welcoming place. But right now, it’s not bringing me comfort. It’s making me itchy. Not physically, but existentially.

All of my friends are happy in committed relationships. They’ve found partners who support them and love them unconditionally. Even the ones who swore they didn’t want a relationship, like Bex and Sadie, have settled down.

Arielle has Asher.

Johanna has Sullivan.

Audrey has Seb.

Vanessa has Sven.

Rachel has Jake.

Sadie has Jared.

Hailey has Ryan.

Bex has Nick.

Even Viv and Elsy, two of our members who moved on to new cities, have found their respective happily ever afters with Tony and Wyatt.

And then there’s me. Perpetually single. Perpetually alone.

Usually, that doesn’t bother me. These people are such amazing friends, I never felt like I was spare parts. That they didn’t want me around.

Until Wish stood me up. My best friend for seven years had a panic attack over the thought of meeting me. I’m so repulsive that he made himself puke instead of having dinner with me.

I absolutely hate that he’s hurting. That he struggled with it. But I’m so fucking pissed that he couldn’t bring himself to talk to me about his fears. That’s what we do: We talk.

And he stayed silent.