Page 112 of Hold Me Today

“First,” Effie tells me, reaching out to poke me in the upper arm, “you’re not an asshole.”

“You say that because you love me.”

“And that brings me to point number two.” She holds up her index and middle fingers like two mocking bunny ears. “Answer me this, how many people have you ever saidI love youto? Accurate count here, please.”

“I don’t know. That’s a weird question.”

“It’s really not.” Effie scoots in close to me, until our thighs are flush and she’s flattening the email over our side-by-side knees. “You don’t say the words often, Mina. Not to me, not to Sarah, not to your siblings.”

Staring down at Nick’s words, I suck my bottom lip in and try to sort through my chaotic thoughts. Do I really not tell the people I love how much I care about them? I know that I show them in other ways, but . . . “People lie, Ef.”

My whole life has been a front.Babawanted the world to believe that I was his and Mama wanted us all to pretend that she didn’t sleep with some unknown American dude who acted as the prodigal sperm donor. One lie bleeds into the next, and promises, vows, and, yes, love, are the first to be sacrificed to preserve the façade.

I watched it firsthand with my parents.

And their lies continued and poisoned me, too. How many days did I walk into the house to hear them arguing about what to do with me? How many times did they lecture me about responsibility and taking care of my younger siblings while they couldn’t even be bothered to come home before dark?

“Nick’s not lying to you,” Effie says, nudging me in the side. “Are you scared that he is?”

No. Maybe.I clear my throat. Drop my chin as I gather the right words to piece together. God, it’s almostpainfulto reveal this corner of my soul. And when I speak, my voice emerges broken. “I’m scared that he’ll wake up one day and realize he could have someone so much more.”

“More thanwhat?”

Harsh laughter rips from my chest. “More thanme, Effie. Someone without dyslexia and daddy issues and insecurities running a mile deep and—”

A hand collides sharply with the middle of my back, knocking the wind right out of me. While I gasp for air, Effie points a threatening finger in my face. “I would have gone for your head but I’m not trying to leave visible damage.” She pokes me right on the nose. “Do you hear yourself? You’re talking like your parents.More than.” An aggrieved, disbelieving snort greets my ears. “My brother adores you. Look at the damn email he wrote after hespecificallytold me that he was going to give you space. And he couldn’t even help himself! You stomped on his heart and he still wanted to comfort you.”

Because Nick Stamos is the best kind of man.

Because he’s as sexy as he is sweet.

Because he’s so much more than a girl like me could ever hope to have by her side.

“Wipe that pitiful look right off your face, Ermione.” Effie leaps from the couch, paces the room, then twirls back around before coming to stand directly in front of me. “Tell me one thing you like about my brother.”

I blink up at her. “Is that a trick question?”

“Is that a—” She cuts herself off, seeking guidance from the popcorn-raised ceiling. Or maybe she’s looking for strength. It’s honestly tough to tell. “I’m not waiting around all day. One thing, Mina. Now.”

Far be it from me to argue with my best friend when she’s on a mission.

I answer off the cuff, completely on instinct. “I love the way he makes me laugh without even trying.” Unconsciously, my thumb makes its way to my mouth, as though wanting to trace the smile threatening to peek through my week-long misery. “He says the mostridiculousthings, you know? It’s so out of character but I know he gets a kick out of surprising me.Shocking me, is how he puts it.”

Effie folds her arms across her chest. “Give me another.”

“His patience. Whether he’s explaining something to Vince or Bill or Mark for the twentieth time or working on one of his sculptures, he’s got the patience of a saint.”Oh, Saint Nick. My heart pounds a little faster. “He balances me that way . . . the yin to my yang.” I peer up at my best friend. “Is that cheesy?”

She gives me a lopsided smile. “No, Mina, it’s not.” A small pause. “Another.”

The back of my throat itches as I shift on the sofa. “He makes me feel special—no,adored. He says this thing to me whenever I’m on the verge of blabbing something embarrassing.” I lower my voice to mimic his deeper pitch. “There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me look at you any differently.” Oh, God, will the tears notstop? I’m like a freakin’ sieve right now. I motion for the tissues and Effie plucks one from the box and pushes it into my hand. “It’s more than feeling adored. With him, I feel respected, valued, like we’re equals. Like what I have to saymatters.”

The way my mother has never been on par with my father.

The realization sits with the weight of a stone in my belly. Briefly, I let my lids fall shut. Maybe Mama andBabawere true partners before she cheated on him. Maybe his insecurities and distrust clouded their entire relationship. Or maybe my dad really is just a controlling jerk who feels the need to keep everyone in their assigned seat.

But I’ve never remained sitting. I push back and challenge him and get tattoos when he hates them and date American boys when he curls his lip at the mere thought. I purchased a hair salon when he effectively told me to get married and retreat back to the household.

My adoptive father might view me as a threat to his perceived hierarchy but Nick . . . I glance down at his email one last time. My best friend’s older brother challenges me, too, but he challenges me to take risks and be a better person and face my fears instead of running away.

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