Page 54 of Our Secret Summer

“Is this a good time to talk about all this?” Raffo asked.

“Is this a good time to ask if you will ever forgive me?” Mia countered with a swiftness her fragile looks didn’t suggest she had in her.

“No.” Raffo said. “That’s not why I’m here. We need to deal with this house. With our stuff.” What was Mia playing at now?

“I’d love to buy you out,” Mia said with a weary sigh, “but I don’t think I can afford it.”

“For real? You’d want to stay here?” They’d decorated the house together, but Raffo’s style dominated every room. “Does it not remind you too much of, um, us?”

“Maybe that’s exactly why I want to stay.”

“Mia, come on. Don’t be like that. It’s not fair.”

“It is unfair, Raff. I know that. And I apologize, but I can’t help how I feel.”

“You caused how you feel. You are the reason I don’t live here anymore.” Raffo shook her head. “I don’t understand why you’re suddenly so convinced that you didn’t stop loving me and destroyed our relationship because of it.”

“I did not stop loving you.” Mia sounded as though she genuinely believed what she was saying.

Raffo could only scoff. “I’m not having this conversation. I’m serious. That’s not why I’m here.” Raffo needed some chairs to sit on in her new house and some clothes from her closet, but most of all, already, she felt as though she needed to get out of there. She’d buy new chairs. She didn’t know why she’d been postponing the simple purchase of a couple of chairs. Was it because she’d been subconsciously waiting for this moment? For some sort of cathartic event between her and her ex? If this was it, it was highly inefficient and anti-climactic.

“I do still love you,” Mia said. “I made a lot of mistakes and I didn’t treat you right and I’m so sorry, Raff. You have no idea.” Tears dripped onto the marble of the kitchen island.

Raffo’s heart shrank. She wished she didn’t care. She wished she could face Mia’s tears with nothing but indifference. Raffo took a breath and closed her eyes. What she saw on the back of her eyelids was her latest painting of Dylan. Dylan who had given her so much comfort in Big Bear, who had listened to Raffo’s sad tales of Mia and how much she’d hurt her, who’d let her cry on her shoulder—and so much more.

“I hope you understand where I’m coming from when I say that I can never trust anything you say or do again,” Raffo said, her voice barely a whisper—because this was a hard thing to say to a crying woman she’d once loved with all her heart.Once.Not anymore. Because there was no room for two people in Raffo’s heart to love, to be involved withamorously. And Raffo was in love with Dylan.

Unlike Mia, Raffo had the decency to not tell her that she’d fallen head over heels for someone else. She didn’t want to rip Mia’s heart to shreds like that. But she did do the only other possible thing she could.

“I can’t do this with you right now,” Raffo said. “Call me when you’re ready to discuss a solution for the house.”

Raffo left and instead of driving to her new house, she drove past her street, took a left, and headed to her best friend’s place.

“I’d like to press play.” Raffo tried her best grin when Connor opened the door to her. “I’m done with pausing.”

Connor matched her grin. “Thank fuck.” He all but yanked her inside. “I’ve missed my cash cow like crazy.”

Raffo brushed off Connor’s comment, knowing how much he genuinely loved her art.

“I went to see Mia,” Raffo said, describing the brief ten minutes she’d endured before fleeing what used to be their home.

“If you need anything from the house,” Connor said, “I’ll get it for you. No problem. I’ve got you covered.” It wasn’t the first time Connor had offered, but it had always felt like something Raffo should do herself.

“Thanks,” she said, finally ready to take him up on his very kind offer. She looked at the glass of water he’d poured her after they’d sat. “We might need something stronger for what I want to tell you next,” she said.

“Oh, boy.” Connor strode to the bar cart and grabbed a bottle of tequila. “Will this do?”

“Perfectly.”

Connor brought over the bottle and two shot glasses, not bothering with any accoutrements. He filled the glasses to the brim so they inevitably spilled some liquor as they brought the drinks to their lips.

“Hit me,” Connor said. He locked his gaze on Raffo. “For the record, I know what you’re going to say.”

“No you don’t.” The shot of tequila made Raffo a little bolder already.

“Oh yes, I do. Hold on.” He reached for his phone. “I’m going to make a note predicting what you’re going to say and then I’m going to give you my phone so you can check after you’ve said it.”

By the fuss he was making, Raffo was pretty sure Connor did know. He wasn’t born yesterday. She didn’t have a fool for a best friend. Connor was clever, kind, and just as strong-willed as Raffo at times. He quickly typed something into his phone—it seemed very short—then gave it to Raffo.

---