Page 20 of What if I Told You

I don’t know what came over me, but the minute she talked about having a relationship, or the mere thought of some sleezeball with his hands on her, I shut down. I want her to be happy here, whatever that means for her, but I never really sat and thought about how I might feel if she were to start dating someone. She’s my best friend. My ride or die. I would do anything for her, and I love her more than I could ever explain, but how do I tell someone I’m not romantically involved with that watching her fall in love and grow alongside some other man isn’t something I think I can do? It was easy in high school because I knew in the back of my brain that whatever boyfriend she may have had at the time wouldn’t last. She wouldn’t marry the guy and she would somehow or another always be my Ella.

But now?

She’s a grown ass woman with dreams and aspirations. And she deserves everything in life that she wants. But having it all happen in my house while I stand by and watch?

No.

Nope.

I can’t do it.

It would crush me.

Ella’s right. She’s a relationship kind of girl. She always has been. She’s the super romantic type with wishes of love notes and flowers and little acts of kindness that make her swoon. She’s always been a sucker for heartfelt romcom movies or the dramatic love saga television shows. Her mindset was always if it can happen on the screen, it can happen in real life. She’s still that girl even after all these years. The pain and heartache that life throws at her still hasn’t dampened her spirit.

I think she still hopes Richard Gere will drive up to her house in a limo with flowers in his hand like he did inPretty Woman.I think she wants Andrew Lincoln to stand outside her door with a sign that says “To Me You Are Perfect.”like he did inLove Actually. She definitely wants Ryan Gosling to kiss her in the rain and then build her dreamhouse for her like he does inThe Notebook.

Consequently, she always refused to watch shows likeAlienorDexter.

Sweat soaks my body as I take my last few jogging steps into my building. I bend over at the waist momentarily to catch my breath, and then make my way to the elevators. Once the door closes behind me, I feel my chest tighten and I start to panic.

Shit.

Is this fixable?

Is she going to be mad at me when I walk in the door?

I should’ve apologized last night.

I should’ve made sure she was okay.

I should’ve fucking checked on her at least once instead of lying in my bed wide awake.

Was this all a horrible mistake?

Did I fuck up by asking her to move in with me?

Maybe I should look into buying her her own place.

Like she would ever let you do that, Blackstone.

Fuck.

She would be heartbroken if I even mentioned her going somewhere else now.

A surefire way to lose my best friend.

And that’s the last thing I want.

The elevator dings for my floor and before the doors open, I’m already cringing at the smell permeating the air. That distinctive smell that tells me exactly what’s going on inside my apartment. The scent that tells me to drop every thought or feeling of doubt I was having about my best friend because she needs me.

“Dammit.” I bring a palm to my forehead. “Her interview.”

She needs me and I wasn’t here.

I left her this morning and now the entire floor of the building, along with most likely many others in proximity, smells like a goddamn cinnamon roll.

Pushing open my apartment door, I expect to see Ella in the kitchen or at the dining room table stuffing her face with ooey gooey goodness, but that is not the case. What I do see, however, is my living room looking like a department store at the end of a Black Friday sale.

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