Chapter Twenty-Eight

Now

It’s been so long since I visited with Audrey. But with my world once again thrown into chaos, I know there’s one place I need to go. Luckily, she lives within an hour’s drive. I settled into life in Portland and she moved to Tacoma, happy being a single woman. She says life is much less complicated when you don’t stay with one person for too long.

I wonder if she’s correct.

No. That isn’t the best of thoughts. My marriage is on the rocks and I’m having thoughts like this because of Kaden Alexander. I haven’t shared with anyone how we kissed, how he stripped off my shirt, how we came so close to making love.

I’m still not sure I’ll share.

I arrive at her apartment complex and climb the stairs to the fourth floor. She’s in a nice place. I’ve never wanted to live in an apartment because I don’t like to be closed in. I love my back yard. Maybe that’s the hippie in me.

She opens the door within seconds of me knocking, a huge smile making her more beautiful than ever. Dang, she never ages. She’s a timeless beauty the world can’t contain.

“Miranda!” she squeals. “I’ve missed you so much, and I’m a total crap-head for never coming around to visit,” she says, throwing her arms around me and squeezing hard. For such a tiny thing, she has a heck of a lot of strength.

“I never visit either.” I try not to give in to the tears suddenly wanting to fall.

“Come in. I’m making dinner. I thought about going out, but I want to gossip, and I don’t want you holding back on me because someone might overhear.” She practically pulls me through the door.

“The house smells fantastic. What did you make?” I don’t remember Audrey being a cook, or much of one at least.

“I made scallops and noodles with Alfredo sauce, and to add some healthy to it, a delicious salad,” she proudly states.

“When did you become a cook?” I ask. She laughs.

“You know I’m a forever college student. One of the years I focused on cooking. I found I really love it.”

She sits me at the kitchen island and pushes a glass of wine in front of me.

“Can I help?” I ask as I lift the glass and sip. It’s crisp and cold and absolutely perfect.

“No way. I want to impress you with my skills.” She throws some butter and seasoning on bread and places it in the oven. The smells in the kitchen make my mouth water. I have to be careful not to drool all over my chin.

“You’re doing a good job, and I haven’t actually tasted the food yet,” I assure her.

“I aim to please,” she replies. “But we haven’t visited in forever, and the last thing I want to talk about is cooking.” She stirs the pasta before pulling out a couple of plates. “Tell me what has dark circles beneath your eyes and that look of worry in them.”

“It doesn’t matter how much time we spend apart, does it?” I’m incredibly homesick. “The second we’re in the same room, it feels as if a day hasn’t passed.”

“I agree. I think we can go so long without talking because we genuinely love each other. We know nothing will ever come between us.”

I continue to fight tears.

She serves two heaping plates and sets one before me before she sits down on my right and picks up her fork. “Dig in.” She takes her first bite before me and sighs.

“I don’t mind bragging. This is delicious.”

I laugh in delight before my first bite. The smells aren’t a disappointment. It’s incredible. “Wow, Audrey. You should be a chef somewhere.”

She waves a hand in the air before spearing some lettuce with a tangy dressing mixed in.

“I wouldn’t love it if I had to do it all the time,” she says with a shrug.

Audrey grew up with money, lots of money. And she certainly loves some of the finer things in life, but she doesn’t flaunt her wealth. Her money allows her to do whatever she wants, though. If she lives off her trust fund and is careful, she won’t have to work a day in her life. She’s always told me it’s boring to not work, and she’s done odd jobs her entire life. She’s been everything: a waitress, a customer service representative, and she’s even flung fish on the docks. She doesn’t think she’s too good for any of it.

We spend a few moments eating before we continue talking. I try to figure out how to start this conversation, and she knows me well enough to give me the time I need. It’s one more reminder why she’s always been my best friend.

A few minutes pass while I stuff my mouth so I won’t have to speak, and Audrey finally clasps a hand over mine and forces me to look at her. I think she can see right through me.

“I’m being patient, but you have to talk to me. What’s going on?”

I pick up my wine glass and sip. “I’m a truly horrible person,” I finally confess.

Audrey’s eyes widen, but then she smiles and laughs. She sips her wine and chuckles more. Placing her hand on mine to make sure I know she’s serious, she says, “I guarantee you, you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. Nothing you could’ve done would make you a horrible person.”

I gulp and decide to go for it. “I cheated on Mason.”

The words are out there, hanging in the air. Audrey tries to mask her surprise, but she fails miserably. She blinks several times then refills our bottles and pulls me from my seat. We’ve eaten as much as we’re going to.

“We need to be much more comfortable for this conversation,” Audrey insists.

We move to her living room where she has plush white leather furniture complemented with black tables. It is very chic and urban at the same time. It isn’t my taste, but it suits her.

“Spill all,” she says as soon as we’re comfortable on the couch, facing each other. “And don’t you dare leave a single thing out.”

I take a deep breath. “I started a new job a couple of months ago, and I met my boss in the elevator . . . well, technically at my graduation first, but then in the elevator . . .” I pause and take another drink.

“At graduation?” She pauses. “And an elevator? Can you get a little more cliché?”

“Do you want me to tell you the story?” I ask pointedly. She laughs.

“Yes, I desperately do.”

I nod and spill it all, our first kiss, our second kiss, our serious making out in Vegas. When I’m done, my glass is empty, and she refills it. I wait for her to call me a tramp, a terrible person, a vixen, anything. I should know better.

“You haven’t slept with him yet?” she asks, confused.

“We haven’t had actual sex yet, but we might as well have.”

“No, darling, sex is sex,” Audrey insists. “And you’re also going to tell me what’s going on with Mason.”

Audrey knows the gist of things there. She knows about Bella. She’s the one who told me the information that rocked my world. She knows about the distance, the lack of sex. She knows a lot. That’s why she’s the perfect person to talk to right now.

“Things have been even more distant with Mason and me, but neither of us seem willing to leave. I think that’s why it’s so easy for me to do what I’ve done. But it’s wrong. I really should leave my husband if I’m willing to sleep with another man.”

“I agree something needs to change, but no one can tell you what to do. No one can walk in your shoes and know what you’re feeling, what Mason is feeling, what this other guy is feeling. That’s for you guys to work out. And it’s not anyone else’s right to judge or put their two cents in,” she assures me.

I feel so much better talking to her. I finally let a few tears fall.

“I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do.”

She sighs then smiles. “I freaking love you, Miranda, and I’ll always be here for you. I’ll help you bury a body if you need it. I’ll walk over a bed of coals if you need it. I’ll jump in an ocean filled with sharks and fight them off. But I can’t make a choice for you. I can only be there to support whatever decision you arrive at.”

“Should I leave Mason?” Panic stirs in my stomach, in my heart, and in my soul from saying these words. “I do love him. I’m just . . . I’m so lonely.”

“Only you get to decide what comes next. Just know I’m here. This is a judgment-free zone. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

I’m quiet for several minutes and then I finally sigh. “Okay, I don’t want to think or talk about it anymore tonight. Please tell me about your love life, the good and the bad.”

She grins, then lifts the bottle of wine and pouts when it’s empty. “One minute. This requires more wine.”

She leaps from the couch and practically ballerina dances into the kitchen. I forget she’s unbelievably graceful on top of all of her other attributes. The man who gets her is going to be one hell of a lucky guy.

She’s back within minutes, our glasses are filled, and we’re comfy all over again. We stay up until three in the morning talking, and of course, I stay the night, not even attempting to drive home.

Thanks to Kaden, I’m smart enough to down some water and coffee and pile in some of Audrey’s delicious bread before I pass out in her guest bedroom. Coming to see her has been exactly what I needed. Between her and my father I have an incredible support group behind me.

I’ll never be alone no matter what I do. Knowing that gives me strength to try to find what I want.