Theo’s always telling people that the first time I saw him he was totally naked, but I was so stoned, I swear I couldn’t fully-remember exactly what his totally naked body looked like. Aside from that fleeting clear view of his butt, I mostly remember seeing an orange-yellow aura and moving kaleidoscope patterns. Which was annoying. And also a blessing. It was an annoying blessing.

And it was probably a survival technique.

I have a feeling that if I had been more clear-headed I would have been so hyper-aware of the light brown hairs on his chest and the way his voice always sounded like he was flirting with someone on the phone. I would have been more aware of the butterflies in my stomach instead of how I truly believed I could feel each and every hair follicle growing out of my scalp.

That was the first and last time I’d ever been stoned, but every time I walked out the front door of that apartment or looked at that hallway, I had this vague vision of him standing there, all six plus feet of him, almost every inch of his golden skin and toned runner’s body facing me, but it was and always will be his eyes that captivate me. The warmth of them. I mean. I would never let a strange naked man into my home if he didn’t have warm, kind eyes. Or if I weren’t stoned.

Did I ever feel guilty about feeling so comfortable with him, even though I had a boyfriend? Nope. Because there was never any doubt in my mind that I was Andrew’s girlfriend. I had been, basically, since we were five. It was never a choice. It was a convenience. It was a family thing. It was uncomplicated. Even when I quietly married someone else. It just was.

I can remember the exact moment I feared that I was falling in love with Theo Walker. It wasn’t before I told him I’d marry him, and it wasn’t during the marriage ceremony kiss—I managed to swiftly talk myself into believing that we were just doing it all for the green card and the cameras and the judge. I convinced myself that I was in Friend-Love with him—that it was no different from the love and adoration I felt for my best friends in kindergarten and high school, that it was just more significant because we were older and living together.

It was not long after we were married, during the interview with the immigration officer, when I got that undeniable feeling in my belly and I thought to myself: Oh shit. I think I’m actually in love with this guy. This is terrible.

He was wearing his olive bomber jacket—my favorite—the one that makes his eyes look like tiny pools of rich melted chocolate, and if I were any other woman I would have tried to lick his yummy sexy eyeballs. His signature jacket used to be a worn-in black leather biker jacket, but when I told him that I preferred the bomber jacket, he started wearing it more often. I had been staring at it, completely spaced-out while Theo was answering some question about our bank accounts and showing the guy our utility bills, and I didn’t even hear the government official the first time he asked me what I was thinking about. He had been asking such perfunctory questions by rote until then, I was caught off guard. I blushed and told him I was thinking about how handsome Theo looked in that jacket, and how he started wearing it more after I’d mentioned that I liked it. I told him that whenever he was up in Toronto visiting his parents, I’d pull that jacket out of his closet and inhale it because it smells like him.

It was true. Well, it was true that I’d done that once.

“You never told me that,” Theo said, in a hushed voice. The way he looked at me, it made my insides melt. He took my hand and squeezed it, and I swear I saw the immigration guy’s lower lip quiver.

A woman who was outside the office when we came out had said that was the shortest interview that officer had ever given—presumably because it was so obvious to him that we were a real couple—but I saw the guy hurry off to the men’s room as soon as we were done, so I’m pretty sure he just cut it short because he had to pee.

But he didn’t even ask if he could see video evidence of our marriage ceremony. I was glad of that. I still hadn’t seen the wedding video that Ethan shot and edited for us. I barely remembered our marriage ceremony, and I didn’t remember Theo’s vows at all. I was trying so hard to not look nervous and maintain a look of love on my face that I just had Beyoncé’s Halo playing in my head whenever I wasn’t talking. Chloe kept telling me that I need to watch the video to see how cute we were, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

Despite realizing that I was in love with him, it had never occurred to me to break up with Andrew because of it, and I had always been aware that our marriage had never been about romance, so I never romanticized it. Since the immigration interview, I’d kept the engagement and wedding rings in their boxes in the drawer of my bedside table. I’ve always been a practical person, and so has he. It was one of the many reasons this arrangement worked for us. The In-Loveness had always somehow been this separate thing that existed outside of our friendship, my relationship with Andrew, and our secret green card marriage.

It became like a useless third nipple that I had learned to live with by hiding it and telling myself that it was just some evolutionary fluke that I can have surgically removed if I ever decide I can’t live with it anymore.

Regardless, the hug that Theo gave me when we got out of that interview room was the best hug I’d ever been given in my life—including parental and grandparental hugs. It was so genuine and intimate, and it was like he was squeezing all my love out of every pore.

“Love you,” he whispered, as he kissed the top of my head.

“Love you,” I mumbled into his chest, as I inhaled the scent of his jacket. It was somehow soothing and stimulating at the same time. Like the color green. Like him.

I also remember the exact moment I realized I needed to make myself fall out of love with Theo Walker. It was when Andrew got drunk at my cousin’s wedding and told me that he had been seeing other women off-and-on for three years. I didn’t think: “You lying turd—I knew it!” I didn’t think: “How could you do this to Us?” I didn’t think: “Our parents will be so upset. We’ll have to tell them we had a friendly break-up, that we just grew apart.” Although, I did think that later. I thought: “Oh shit. I’m secretly in love with my secret fake husband and I don’t have a boyfriend buffer anymore. This is a fucking disaster.”

And then I thought: “I hate how Theo always eats apples all the way down to the core and makes fun of me because I leave so much uneaten—like that makes him better than me. I need to focus on that. Plus he’s always writing notes to himself on Post-its and then calling me and asking me to find them and read them to him. It’s like—write it on your phone, dummy—you’re the millionaire tech nerd!”

But then I remembered that I once found a Post-it note that said I miss you Gemma when he was up in Palo Alto, and then I started crying and Andrew thought I was crying because we were breaking up. And then he cried, promised me he “was always safe with the other girls, so you don’t have to worry” and I was like: “Wow, you’re so considerate, thank you,” and then I got champagne-drunk, and then we angrily made out one last time in the bathroom at the wedding reception and it was just terrible.

We shared a cab back to my parents’ house. When Andrew and I said goodbye in my parents’ driveway, while the cab waited at the curb, we hugged each other for a long time, and that time I really was crying because of him. Because of Us. Because that part of my life was over. I hard-core ugly cried right there in the purple Ralph Lauren dress that I’ve worn to all non-L.A. weddings, in front of the only man I’d ever had sex with, and Mrs. Francis who I know was peeking through her old lace curtains across the street. A huge part of my life was over, and had been for a long time, but I hadn’t let myself admit it until now. I had remained devoted to the idea of being Andrew’s dedicated long-distance girlfriend for years, because I didn’t want to have to deal with my real feelings for Theo.

“I loved you,” he said as he held me so close. “I always loved you.”

“I know. I loved you too.” We just never fell in love with each other, is what we didn’t say. What we’d never said.

He cleared his throat when he let go of me and looked down at the ground, hands on his hips. “So, you, uh…You’re still gonna be married to Theo for another year or so, huh?”

It was so strange hearing him say Theo’s name. We almost never talked about him. “Yeah. About a year.”

He nodded his head. “Yeah. I guess…I guess I’m glad you have him.”

“What do you mean? I don’t have him.”

“Yeah you do.” His tone of voice changed. Like he was reprimanding me.

“I don’t—Andrew—we’ve never.”

“I meant as a friend, obviously,” he said, in a way that meant he obviously didn’t. “To keep you company.”

“Oh. Yeah. As a friend.”

He glanced at me, his whole body tense all of a sudden. “I’m not an idiot, you know.” Such restrained anger in his voice.

What happened to the poignant break-up moment we were having?

“I know you guys aren’t just friends.”

“Yes we are.”

“No. You’re not.”

“I’m not the one who cheated, Andrew.”

“Whatever. Well, you’re all his now. Have fun in La-La Land with your fancy millionaire secret husband who didn’t stay in his hometown to be near his family and go to a second tier state college.”

“What?! Where is this coming from?”

His hands went up, surrendering. “Nothing’s coming from anywhere, forget it. I just couldn’t let you get away with thinking this was all on me. Nobody’s going to blame me for fooling around while you’re out in Los Angeles with your sweet little pretty boy husband.”

“You can’t tell anyone about our marriage.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry. I just mean your parents won’t be mad at me. If you do decide to tell them about what I was up to.”

“Andrew. Do not tell anyone. He could be deported and I could go to jail. I mean it! Don’t you dare.”

“I’m just saying. If you tell people around here that I cheated on you, I will tell people over there that you married him so he could get a green card.”

He looked fifty percent indignant, fifty percent filled with regret.

I one hundred percent wanted to shove him into a ditch. But I didn’t. Deep breath. He’s drunk. He’s hurting. “Okay then. Thanks for making this goodbye a little easier for us both. Well done.”

He made a little obnoxious noise that might have been laughter. “It’s just—Gemma. Do you see yourself?” He waved his hand up and down in my direction. “You just got so much more upset about me blowing the lid off your marriage to him than you did about me getting blown by other girls.” He made that alien laughter noise again, because he thought he just said something really clever.

I shuddered. There is nothing more chilling than seeing someone you’ve known all your life become someone you don’t recognize, someone you don’t even want to see. “Right. Bye, Andrew.”

I went inside, didn’t watch him get into the cab. A minute later I received an apology text, citing alcohol and overwhelming unfamiliar emotions as valid excuses for his behavior. He will make a decent lawyer one day, and a moderately reliable husband to someone other than me.

I don’t regret my relationship with Andrew. I really don’t. I knew that we’d text each other on birthdays and at Christmas and New Years. It would mean nothing and everything. I would miss him. He’s as much a part of who I am as Lake Erie, my mom’s apple crumble, and my need to make the rooms I’m in look pretty so I can feel like I’m in control of my life.

The next day, at lunch, when I carefully informed my parents that Andrew and I had broken up because we had grown apart, neither of them reacted in the way I had expected them to. They nodded slowly, glanced at each other, gave me a hug, asked me if I was okay, and then gently asked if it was because I was in love with Theo.

Whuck?

“Why would you even ask me that?”

“Well darling,” said my Mom, in her calm-down voice. “No need to get upset. You do remember your father and I were there at your wedding.”

“Marriage ceremony.”

“Yes, and we saw the way you looked at him and heard what you said in your vows and the way you were together—it was so cute and wonderful. And that kiss! My goodness. I mean. I know it was all for show, but I get all flushed just thinking about it, even now!” She fanned herself with her paper napkin.

And that is why I will never watch that video.

“Alright, alright,” my father grumbled.

“I’m sure he’ll come around eventually. Men are slower to figure these things out than women are. Isn’t that right, Dad?”

“We’re not the brightest creatures when it comes to matters of the heart. But, yes. I’m sure he’ll come around. You’re adorable.”

Great, so it was that obvious that Theo was not in love with me? Even to my parents—who are supposed to be delusional about how attractive I am to every single person on the planet?

“Um. I have to go pack. So you guys are okay with the Andrew thing? You’ll talk to Sandy and Gary about it?”

“Of course of course. It would be a nice gesture if you send them an e-mail or something, just so they know there’s no bitterness.”

“Sure. They still don’t know about me and Theo, right? The marriage thing, I mean?”

“No, it seems like Andrew never told them, so we’ve never mentioned it.”

“Okay.”

“Darling,” my Mom practically sang a lullaby. “Hang in there with Theo. He really is perfect for you. He’ll come around eventually.”

I took a deep breath, pushed my chair in under the kitchen table and started to walk out to go pack up what was surely going to be a much lighter suitcase than I came with because I was returning to LA with almost no remaining ego.

“Sure. Thanks.”

Did it bother me that my own parents assumed that I was in unrequited love with my best friend? A little…I just lied. It bothered me a lot. But only when I thought about it. So I was not going to think about it.

Did it bother me that hardly anyone had ever assumed that we were a couple when we were out together in LA? Yes, it did. Our neighbors never questioned our friendly housemate status. When we went out to grab a meal with Chloe and Ethan at Winsome, our place on Sunset, the waitresses did not hesitate to flirt with him when I was sitting next to him. I was not going to think about that either.

I guess it just never really occurred to me that Theo and I being a real couple was an option. Since other people couldn’t conceive of it, I figured he couldn’t either. Case in point: his nickname for me was Grandma. Betty White would probably have a better chance with him than I would.

Leaving aside the fact that I had a boyfriend when I met him—he had just hooked up with my neighbor. Nikki was a beach volleyball player. She was a tall, athletic, aggressively pretty Nordic goddess. I figured that was his type. I was a petite messy-haired brunette whose main form of exercise consisted of walking around campus and to the store to buy ice cream.

Once I became friends with him, he somehow managed to get me to go for hikes with him around Griffith Park and for the occasional dreadful jog around Elysian Park. He’d always used me to gauge the prototypes of his fitness tech products for “the fitness novice.” I usually just recommended that they should somehow make people feel better about their shape or fitness level no matter what. Yer welcome, world.

But now that I was a single lady in the city that never sags, I supposed I would have to up my game. By that, I meant jogging to and from the store to buy ice cream, and strolling around the house while eating it. I couldn’t believe I was technically single. Or wait—I was technically married, but I was single in practice. Emotionally single. Mentally single. Physically single.

Crap.

It was time to surgically remove that third nipple, so I wouldn’t cling to it as an excuse for never taking my shirt off in front of another man again.

That was why I purchased a journal at the Cleve airport bookstore and I was going to fill it with a list of all the reasons why we should always be Just Friends. Just friends who would be secretly married to each other for one more year, for reasons that had everything to do with friendship and absolutely nothing to do with romantic love or hot sex, or the fact that he had the most beautiful naked body I had ever blurrily-seen in person.

By the time my plane had landed on the tarmac at the Burbank Airport, I had had two Bloody Marys, filled twenty pages of my new journal with excellent reasons why I should fall out of love with my best friend, and I was feeling pretty darned optimistic about my future. I was particularly excited about my near future. I hadn’t told Theo about Andrew, because he was busy being a workaholic up in the Bay Area all week and I didn’t want to bother him. I would have our floor of the house to myself, so I was going to ask the cab driver to stop off at Ralphs on the way home so I could grab some donuts and maybe a package of sliced cheddar cheese, then I would slip into my jammies and listen to break-up songs while writing in my journal in bed. It was going to be glorious, and Theo wouldn’t be around to tell me that I should be having a raw cacao/fresh mint/avocado/chia seed/almond milk smoothie instead.

As I rolled my carry-on bag towards the little baggage claim/waiting area of Terminal B, I feasted my eyes upon something even more glorious than a box of donuts and cozy pajamas. An A-plus man butt in a nice pair of black jeans. It belonged to a guy who was talking on his cell phone, wearing a black baseball cap, which he had on backwards, and it was making my tummy do somersaults. Goodbye useless third nipple, hello marvelous man butt.

His tight white T-shirt was stretched across his back so that I could see the outline of his deltoid muscles—or were those the lats?—and who cares because oh the beautiful tanned muscular arms and oh the way he was standing was just so…OH. SHIT.

He turned around, spotted me, smirked when he caught me checking him out. He told whoever was on the phone with him that he had to go and hung up immediately, never taking his eyes off of me. He looked happy to see me, and then he remembered that he was here for me because I was supposed to be sad.

I remembered that I was sad about Andrew and I was sad because I needed to distance myself from Theo and I was sad that it was going to be so hard for me to do that when he was so fucking considerate although I was furious that I’d just accidentally eye-fucked him in public and mortified that he totally saw it.

He was supposed to be in Palo Alto, frantically working on a presentation for his key investors. What was he doing at the Burbank airport having a cute butt and seeing me ogle it?! He usually wore an old Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap. I guess I’d never seen those jeans on him before. I suppose that ever since we’d moved in together, I’d been forcing myself to avoid looking in the general direction of his butt when his butt was around. He’d been out of town so much those past few months, I actually didn’t recognize him.

I stopped two feet in front of him, frowning.

“I told Chloe not to tell Ethan.”

“Of course she told him. He’s her husband.” He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in—in a brotherly fashion. “And I’m your husband,” he said, so quietly that I barely heard him. Then he winked at me and squeezed me closer. “You should have told me.”

My body tensed up, fighting this for about three whole seconds, and then I dropped the handle of my luggage and wrapped my arms around him, buried my face into his chest and burst into tears. For the fifth time in twenty-four hours. I was a mess.

“I’m fine!”

“It’s okay to not be fine.”

“I know. I’m fine.”

“Hey, hey…” He held me close and rubbed my back. “I’m sorry. I want to kick Andrew in the head, but I’m sorry. I also want to punch him in the balls. Sorry.”

“I’m not even mad at him,” I mumbled into his shirt.

“What?”

“Nothing.” If I told him I wasn’t mad at Andrew then I’d have to explain why, and I couldn’t do that. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you still don’t understand how awesome I am.”

I can’t believe you still don’t realize how aware I am of how awesome you are, you idiot.

“I’ll have to go back in the morning and pull an all-nighter tomorrow, but it’s cool. I gave my guys the night off too. This way, my best friend and my employees think I’m amazing. Win-win.”

“What a wonderful world. Why aren’t you wearing your Jays cap?”

“I didn’t have time to change when I got home. I don’t wear logos at work unless they’re my own.”

He grabbed my carry-on bag and slid his free arm around my shoulder. I clutched my handbag to my side, because therein hid my brand new Just Friends journal.

“What kind of mood you in? Moody Judy, Negative Nelly, Raging Granny or Daisy Denial?”

“Annoyed Annie.”

“Ah. I’ll let you project your annoyance onto me for about two minutes, but good luck with that once we get to my car.”

“Why—are you going to let me run you over with it?”

“I’m glad you still have your sense of humor.”

“I’m glad you don’t expect me to run you over. That will make it so much easier.”

While Theo was putting my bag in the trunk of his Prius, I walked over to the passenger side and felt my body tense up again, because DAMMIT he was right. I couldn’t be annoyed at him. Sitting on the passenger seat was a big teddy bear, a box of old-fashioned donuts, and a big package of sliced organic cheddar cheese.

I glanced over at him, frowning.

He was beaming and very proud of himself. He opened the passenger door for me, picked up the teddy bear, placed the donuts and cheese on the dashboard so I could get in. “Mi’lady.” He placed the teddy bear in my lap once I’d buckled my seatbelt.

I shook my head. Stop it. Stop being so freaking cute and perfect. Just stop it.

We didn’t say anything all the way home, as I finally relaxed and he quietly delighted in his own magnificence.

It’s less than an hour and a half flight time from Palo Alto to the Burbank airport. He would have had a car take him home, then picked up his own car, then stopped off at the market to get the cheese and donuts and probably bought the stuffed animal at a drugstore. He would have been on the phone with his employees the entire time. How is it possible that I knew him so well, but he had never stopped surprising me? How is it possible that he knew me so well but he had no idea how I really felt about him?

And yet, I knew that I would continue to hide my feelings as surely as I would eat all of that cheese and every single donut even though it would make me constipated for days.

I’ve been emotionally constipated for two years. Appropriate.

I burst out laughing at that thought.

Theo wrinkled his brow and glanced over at me as he pulled into the garage. He knew better than to ask me what I was laughing about. If I wanted him to know something I’d tell him.

When I’d put my bags and jacket and stuffed animal and donuts and cheese away in my room, and checked to make sure my level of airplane stink was not appalling, I found Theo leaning against the back of the living room sofa, waiting for me. He wasn’t even looking at his phone, he was just waiting.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.”

“So do you feel like talking about it or not?”

“Not.”

He nodded. “Okay.” He lifted his backwards baseball cap off his head, ran his fingers through his thick beautiful mess of hair, put the cap back on, then stroked his chiseled stubbly jaw with his fingers. “Is it okay if I say something?”

As long as it isn’t something wonderful that makes me fall more in love with you.

I shrugged my shoulders and shoved my hands into my front pockets.

He startled me by moving so quickly from the sofa, lunging towards me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “He shouldn’t have done that to you, Gem.”

I could barely breathe, he was holding me so tight. I wrapped my arms around his waist and this time I didn’t cry, because all I could feel was Theo. Theo’s biceps, Theo’s hands, Theo’s abs, Theo’s back, Theo’s deep voice vibrating through me when he said: “You’re the best person I know. No one should treat you that way.”

I laughed into his chest, because he was so concerned and what he was saying was so corny. “I’m really okay.”

He pulled back from me and lifted my chin up to face him. “I’m here for you, if you’re not okay. You know that, right?”

I nodded my head, but he looked at me so strangely.

“I mean I’m here for you,” he said again, only this time it seemed to mean something different. He looked confused, and I felt so confused, until suddenly I didn’t.

I knew exactly how I felt, and maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same way too?

He was lowering his face towards mine.

I tilted my head up, closed my eyes, offering my lips to him.

And then I felt his lips press against my forehead.

A forehead kiss.

He gave me a freaking forehead kiss.

I opened my eyes and shoved him away, humiliated.

He grabbed my wrist. “Hey.” He pulled me back towards him, but I tried to pull away and he grabbed my other wrist. He looked so perplexed. He never looked perplexed. Theo always had both feet on the ground and a good head on his shoulders. But right now it looked like I could knock him on his ass with two words.

Kiss me.

I didn’t say it, but I know my eyes did, they were daring him to.

I let him pull me in again, as he put his hands on my face and stared at my mouth.

And then the phone in his pants started playing Let’s Get It On by Marvin Gaye, and I thought: “Yes. Let’s!”

But he froze, and pulled his phone out from his back pocket to check the caller I.D. “Shit. Shit!” His hand went to his forehead. “I have to take this—shit. Sorry.” He answered as he head into his bedroom and shut his door.

Reason number 26 why we should only ever be Just Friends: That.

I’d never purposefully listened in on his calls before, but found myself pressing my ear up against the closed door, because this had already been the shittiest weekend ever so I might as well.

From what I gathered, he had forgotten that he had late-dinner plans with a girl and she was at the restaurant up in San Francisco, waiting for him.

His voice was so different with this phone girl. He was polite, but sexy and commanding. He apologized twice, not at all profusely, told her that something came up at home that he had to take care of, but he could see her after the big meeting with his investors. Until then, he was fully-booked. She probably hung up on him. I didn’t blame her. He called his assistant to ask him to have flowers sent to Carly in the morning. “Nothing extravagant—just two dozen yellow roses.”

Carly.

This guy, with his Nikkis and Carlys.

I hustled over to the kitchen, to pour a glass of milk to go with my donuts and fury. I expected that Carly would be equally perturbed when she received yellow apology roses. Yellow roses symbolize friendship. I was the one he should have been giving yellow roses to. If I were designing a set for a character who’s received flowers from a guy she’s boning, I would suggest peonies of any color (if they’re in season), or lavender roses (because they aren’t a cliché). But I would not be advising Theo on this matter.

By the time he emerged from his room, looking somewhat sheepish, I had perfected my I Couldn’t Care Less About This facial expression, but my voice betrayed me. “Everything okay up in the Frisco Bay?” I practically growled.

He shrugged. “Yes and no.” He didn’t quite join me in the kitchen. He approached the counter between the kitchen and the dining area. Despite being a runner, when Theo Walker walked, he took long, slow strides. It was like he moved in slow motion so you could get a good look at how sexy and beautiful he was. It seemed to take forever for him to cross the room, and I was losing my carefully-cultivated resting bitch face. I could feel it morphing into the Angry Sexually Frustrated Platonic Friend face that would surely become my mask for the foreseeable future. He pressed his hands down on the countertop. The bulging veins in his arms only made me angrier.

“So you weren’t going to work all night tonight anyway.”

“I was going to go back to work after a late dinner.”

“After dinner or after ‘dessert?’”

He gave me a quizzical look and then deftly ignored my question.

“Seriously—do you even like these girls that you bone?” I’d never straight-out asked him this before.

He looked at me cautiously. “Why?”

I shrugged, ever so nonchalant. “Well, I’m a single girl now, I’m just psyching myself up, getting super excited about what it’ll be like to date all those awesome single guys out there.”

His jaw clenched and his whole body tensed up. “Well, I really can’t speak for all the awesome single guys out there.”

“Speak for yourself, then.”

“Of course I like them.” He sounded annoyed with me now. “I’ve just never fallen for any of them and I’ve never liked them more than I like my work, so I make it very clear to them up front that it’s just going to be a fling. If they want to get all mad or emotional that’s up to them.”

“Wow. You’re so evolved.”

He watched me. I stared down at my glass of milk.

“Gemma.”

“No.”

“We should—”

“Nope.”

There was a tapping on the patio door. Chloe and Ethan were on the back porch. Thank God. “Hey!” I rushed over to unlock the sliding door, thrilled by this interruption. Theo stayed where he was.

“Hey,” Chloe said, hugging me. “I hope it’s okay that he found out. I specifically told my idiot husband not to tell him.”

“My idiot wife didn’t make it clear that she really, really meant that I shouldn’t tell him.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s all fine.”

The Marvin Gaye song started up again in Theo’s pants. He pulled his phone out and excused himself to his room.

Ethan didn’t wait for him to shut the door before saying: “His latest fangirl slash girl toy?”

Chloe smacked him across the bicep. “Do not call a woman that.”

“What? Fangirl? That’s what they are.”

I made another admirable attempt at conveying a lack of interest in my voice. “Is Carly someone new?”

“It’s always someone new.” Ethan waved his hand dismissively.

“Carly’s the tall blonde one from Germany?” I said. I had no idea if he was seeing a tall blonde woman from Germany, but I watched every episode of Veronica Mars and considered myself a top-notch amateur snoop.

“Nah, that was last year. This is the genius engineer from Tokyo. I think.”

“Ahh,” I said, quickly and quietly dying inside. “The pink hair.” Another guess. God, I was good.

Ethan looked surprised. “I thought it was purple. He shows you pictures?”

Chloe elbowed him in the ribs. “We have no idea what’s really going on with Theo. We’re re-watching Season One of True Detective. You want to come down and hang with us for a bit?”

“Damn I love that show. I do want to, but I’m pretty tired. I should probably go to bed.”

Chloe kept watching me, then looked to Theo’s bedroom door. “You want me to stay with you?”

Was she afraid I was going to hop into bed with Theo? As if.

“No, but thank you. I’m just gonna crash.”

She nodded. “Text if you need me.”

Ethan gently punched my shoulder, which is about as emotionally expressive as Ethan gets.

“Thanks, buddy,” I said.

When they were outside on the porch, Ethan’s hands were all over his wife, and I was sure they were going to go have intercourse while watching HBO. They were living the dream.

Meanwhile, I was living my tiny First World nightmare.

Theo started to walk out of his room, holding his phone and staring at it. Then he looked up and saw me standing alone, went back into his room, and returned without his phone. A nice gesture, but it wasn’t enough.

I started to head towards my room, without looking at him.

He cut me off at the pass.

“Hey. Grandma. That thing that almost happened there.”

“Don’t need to talk about it. Didn’t happen.” I tried to step around him but he blocked me with his aggravatingly tall and fit body.

“I know, we don’t have to talk about it again, but…Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay. You’re feeling vulnerable. You’re probably feeling insecure about your attractiveness right now, because of Andrew.”

Asshat. “Stop talking.” My whole body was heating up, and not in the good way.

“I’m just saying, it’s totally natural and normal for you to feel that way.”

“Uh huh. And you know this from your own experience as a woman who’s been in a long-term relationship that just ended because she found out her boyfriend had been cheating on her for years?”

“No.”

“Are you saying I was a shitty girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Because I didn’t see him enough after I moved here? Because I didn’t have enough long-distance sex with him?”

“It seemed to me like you had plenty of that—”

“Because I didn’t like to talk about our problems? Because I ignored our problems? Because I didn’t even admit that we had any problems? Because I just got used to having a long-distance boyfriend because it was so easy?”

He rested his hands on his hips and planted his feet on the floor, knowing that this was going to take a while and he was going to have to stand his ground. “Didn’t say that.”

“Are you saying I’m not good at relationships?”

“Nope.” 

“You think I’m naive because it didn’t even occur to me that my long distance boyfriend would want to stick his dick in some strange when I wasn’t around—which was most of the time?”

“No—what?! No.” His expression told me was wondering when my body would start floating, head spinning and spewing pea soup vomit.

I myself had no idea who this demon was that was speaking through me all of a sudden, but I was powerless to stop it.

“Are you saying I should feel insecure about my attractiveness? That that’s probably why he cheated? Because I didn’t satisfy him? Because I didn’t give him enough blowjobs? Because I never let him do butt stuff? Because I got lazy and wore my pajamas to bed with him? Because I wouldn’t watch Japanese porn with him?”

“Yeah, let’s stop talking.”

“You think I married you because on some level I knew it would make it easier for me to get out of my relationship with him?”

“Gemma.”

“You think the reason Andrew didn’t ever once act jealous about you was because you gave him an excuse to not feel guilty about him fucking around?”

“Whoa.”

“Fuck you.”

“That was totally not what I was saying!”

“Fuck you anyway. Fuck all you guys! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckers!” I raised both my hands and flipped him the bird, while jumping up and down like a totally rational person who was doing an amazing job of handling her emotions.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and did a terrible job of not laughing at me. “Sure. Do you want to calm down and let me finish what I was saying?”

“No I don’t! You probably think I almost kissed you because you’re such hot shit well guess what—you’re right it had nothing to do with you—I probably would have tried to make out with a tree if that’s what was standing in front of me so just get over yourself!”

“Really, a tree?”

“Yeah! Or a lamp post!”

“What about a life-size cardboard cutout of Justin Bieber?”

I tried desperately not to laugh at that, but it was a losing battle. Stop it. Stop making me laugh when all I want to do right now is hate you.

“No. I am not a Belieber.”

He had once walked in on me while I was Swiffering and singing and dancing around to the Baby video. He will never let me forget it. I mean, I’ve got two ears, a mouth and two legs—what am I supposed to do—not sing and dance around to that video when it comes on?

Reason Number Five Thousand and Eight why we must be Just Friends: He knows me too well. How could anyone who knows me so well want to make out with me?

“I still don’t beliebe you. Listen, if you want to pick a fight with me instead of the guy who cheated on you for years, like I said, I’m here for you. I can take it.”

Reason Number Infinity why we’ll always be Just Friends: He knows me better than I know myself. It’s never a fair fight.

“But what I was going to say is that you have every right to feel vulnerable, because what he did was shitty and I’m sorry it happened, but I’m glad you broke up with him instead of just forgiving him because he doesn’t deserve you and if you do get back together with him I’m not going to be the guy who lets you do that—I will continue to tell you that he doesn’t deserve you.”

“I’m not going to get back together with him,” I offered, meekly.

“Good. I really hope you don’t. And the other thing I was going to say is that you have absolutely no reason to feel unattractive.” He held his arms close to his body, careful not to touch me or give me any reason to misinterpret his words or body language. “Whatever reason he had for fucking around, those were his reasons. You’re a fox, Gemma Kelly. You’re beautiful and you’re kind and you’re loyal and you’re smart and talented and funny and most of the time you’re really sane and sweet and there might not be a guy out there who deserves you, because we’re all shitheads in some way or another, but there’s someone out there who’s better for you than Andrew, I know that.”

Someone. Out there. Not in here. Got it.

Reason Number Infinity Plus One.

“What should we watch five episodes of before you fall asleep on the sofa tonight?”

“Oh…I just want to eat cheese and donuts and watch HGTV until I lapse into a food coma.”

He scrunched up his face. He never wanted to watch HGTV with me. That was going on the list. My real husband would watch that shit with me.

“Fine. I’ll go change into my sweats and return a few emails—see you on the sofa in ten.” He turned to go to his room.

Hunh. He was willing to watch HGTV with me that night. That was exactly why I refused to torture myself by being in love with him—he was such a good friend that he would make it impossible for me to hate him for not being desperately in love with me.

“No, I…I’m gonna get in bed and watch on my iPad. In my room. By myself. Is that okay?”

He looked somewhere between mad and crestfallen. “Really? I mean. I came back from Palo Alto for you, Gem. You know what my schedule’s like right now.”

“I didn’t ask you to rearrange your schedule. I didn’t even tell you what was going on.” And I almost kissed you so obviously I need to pretend that you don’t exist.

“Right. Have a good night.”

He went into his bedroom and shut the door.

I stomped into mine and shut the door.

I collapsed onto my bed, pulled out my Just Friends journal and my pen and I wrote, with a shaky hand: Reason # 26 –These lust-fueled feelings for him are turning me into a cuckoo-bananas-crazy-monster. Must. Repress. More. Effectively. Immediately.

I was disappointed with myself for so many reasons that night, but chief among them was the fact that I was only able to consume four donuts and three slices of cheese. I paused the Fixer Upper episode that I’d already seen five times, and could hear an episode of Bob’s Burgers on in the living room. Theo was probably working on his laptop while sexting with Carly.

I should just let him do that.

But what if that’s not what he’s doing? What if he’s sad?

He did come back to be with me.

I couldn’t deny him that. I couldn’t deny him our friendship.

I was wearing my least sexy PJs and carrying the teddy bear when I tiptoed out and saw that Theo was sprawled out on the sofa, staring at the TV, holding onto a throw pillow and frowning. No laptop, no phone. Just him in his baggy sweat pants and tank top.

I will be enforcing a strict No Being In Love With My Best Friend Policy—starting tomorrow.

I lifted up his big feet and plopped down onto the end of the sofa, placing them on my lap.

He put the pillow that he was clutching behind his head.

I leaned back and let the familiar sweet hilarity that is Bob’s Burgers wash over me and lull me to sleep.

We didn’t say a word to each other. I fell asleep inside of half an hour. He was gone in the morning, and I woke up there on the sofa with a pillow under my head and a blanket over me and found a Post-it note on the coffee table that said: No more donuts for you, missy. xx

I ate the rest of the donuts.