Page 72 of Big Daddy

Brielle looks up at me, her wide blue eyes shining. “I am so happy, Win. And I’ve wanted to gush to you all about it for the last month.” Unexpectedly she reaches over the plastic menus and wraps her slender fingers over mine. “I’ve wanted nothing but to tell you. Lance and Aug are tired of hearing your name, I swear.”

The waitress approaches us, and we quickly order. I’m more focused on Brielle than my Diet Coke and French dip. After she scrawls our orders down, she leaves and I make my move.

“I’m so sorry about everything, and I know I told you at the restaurant that night but… I’ve wanted to say it every day since then. I just… thought baby steps were best.” I nervously spread my paper napkin over my lap. “Thank you for agreeing to this in person thing, finally. But thank you for texting with me, too. The last month has been so great, B.”

Brielle’s smile is slightly different than I remember, but a lot of her is different now. Me too, truthfully. It’s painful growing apart from someone who you wanted to stay close to forever,but life is like that, and some growing pains result in beautiful things. I’m choosing to have hope and believe that we will grow apart, but come together in a better place.

“I understand, you know. I mean, I understand why you didn’t tell me,” she starts, sipping from her straw the moment the waitress delivers our fountain drinks.

I take a drink of mine and wait patiently for her words.

She licks her lips, her eyes on her soda before they finally lift to mine. “If I had fallen in love with your dad accidentally, I wouldn’t have told you either. As much as I’d like to act holier than thou and pretend I’d simply say no to someone who posed a risk to my life, I’d be a liar.”

My ears burn with her honesty. “I feel horrible about it all, regardless.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t though. I mean, I’m hurt and angry, sure, but I’ll get over that shit. I will. I swear. But Aug and Lance, they sat me down and said, ‘the way your heart chose us, unconventional and unexpected, her heart chose him.’” Her blue eyes move between the table, the window, her glass, and then me. “You love him, and I can’t punish you for that.”

I reach across the table and collect her hands with mine, giving her a squeeze. “I love you too, though, and I don’t want you to think I was willing to let you go for him. I want you both.”

She smiles and a tear slips free, stinging my heart. “You have us both. But like I said at dinner, our friendship will just look a lot different.” She sips her drink. “No more sex talk.”

My cheeks flare. “I know.” I take a sad sip of Diet Coke. “But we can replace that talk with other things.”

Brielle smiles. “Like Quincey and I doing therapy together.”

I smack the table. “He told me that! I never asked how sessions are going, and he doesn’t always share. I don’t push. That’s between the two of you.” I lean in, seriousness and urgency washing over me. “You know, I would never do anythingto come between you and your dad. And that’s what you two have, and the therapy and rebuilding—I respect that. I love that. I will never, ever put myself between you or ask him to choose.”

She smiles.

“He will choose you if I ask him to choose between us. As much as he loves me, you’re his daughter,” I tell her, not even because I think she needs to hear it, but because it’s true and I know he’s never said anything quite so honest and bold.

“You’re the reason we’re in therapy. I think you made him realize he’s an asshole,” Brielle smirks.

I shrug, playing off casual nonchalance. “Sometimes it takes an outsider, I guess.”

We laugh, and it’s the first time since all of this happened that Brielle and I have managed to laugh about something organically and it feels so good. My face tingles and my bouncing knee slows as a familiar memory of the two of us moves through the space. We have so many memories together, but I know now we also have so many to make, too.

The waitress delivers our plates and as we pick at our fries and fruit, confusion lifts one of Brielle’s manicured brows. “You said my dad helped you with your depression…” she hedges.

My cheeks flare with embarrassment. I will never be comfortable talking about this, but there is something freeing about telling Brielle exactly how things have transpired.

I let out a long, dramatic sigh. “The day he came to your apartment I had just lost my job,” I start, nervous because this is another unopened box of secrets. No one knew I was doing this, not my roommates, not Brielle. Quincey was the first person I told, and I know that’s going to hurt Brielle even more.

She arches her brow. “At Rise & Grind? You quit that job months ago.” She traces the edge of her soda glass with a finger tip as she sifts through her mental filing cabinet. “The TA gig you had?”

I smile awkwardly. “There was no TA gig. I wasn’t even close to making ends meet at the coffee house and delivering food—or any of the other jobs I had—so I took a different route.” I chew the inside of my mouth as my friend stares at me, silence heavy between us. “I was studying at the coffee shop one day, looking like a total feral racoon, when a man came in and told me I have nice feet.”

Brielle wrinkles her nose. “No offense but… you do?”

I shrug. “None taken because I’ve never known any feet to be good looking but yes, apparently, my feet are quite nice.” To break the awkward tension mounting like Everest between us, I dance my eyebrows playfully. “They get the job done.”

Brielle sucks in a shocked breath crossed with a reactive giggle, and for a split second, it feels like old times when we sat around shit talking to each other, laughing and having fun.

“Anyway, he left me a card and I took it. And I called him almost immediately because… it’s exhausting being broke. And I don’t say it to make you feel bad or guilty, because we have different struggles. But for me, being broke was the underlying stress in my life for a lot of years. And I know I never opened up about it but that’s just… you know, not my style.”

She nods, looking into the cup of ice that was her soda, then says, “I would have helped you.”

We both remain quiet for a moment, because I didn’t choose that path and nothing can rewind the clock. Had I asked her for help, maybe we’d still be besties.

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