Page 135 of Summertime Friends

I’d lie to Emme. Coming up with excuses when boys would come up or I had plans with Liam.

I liked Liam. I do believe he liked me, but never in the way he loved her.

That night in my apartment, I saw them together and noticed how they kept sneaking peeks at one another. It was as if they were trying not to make it obvious—they were doing a terrible job.

Jealousy crept throughout my body watching them. Liam was ‘with’ me, but I was jealous of Emme. None of this was right anymore.

I forced Liam to walk her home because I had to decide whether I could do this anymore. Or would he end it himself?

At first, it didn’t even cross my mind that I was literally handing him to her on a silver platter (which was the original plan). By the time it did, it was too late to rescind. While Liam was with Emme, I sat on my couch contemplating ending this entire charade. But would I end it to have him for myself or for them? He would have picked her. So, I decided not to end it at all. I didn’t want to lose. With Emme, I always got what I wanted, and she never believed in love—and was engaged!—anyway. Jokes on me.

Emme avoided me for a week after she and Brandon called off their wedding. I knew she wasn’t upset about the engagement but about Liam. I also knew the engagement was called off because of him, but no one wanted to confirm that for me. I just knew I was right.

But then something changed, and she was hanging out with us again. I assumed Liam had said something to her after I found a call to her on my phone that I don’t remember making.

Our threesome of sorts went on for weeks: Liam, my unofficial-boyfriend-whatever, Emme, my very official best friend. Orchestratedly placing the two of them next to each other. Chloe came when she was free. Callum, too, once he was in town.

Liam introduced the two of them as if they hadn’t even met before. No one needed to tell me they had with how attached to Emme he became.

The whole plan came crashing down that night at Parlor Pizza.

When Liam followed her to the bathroom, I knew something was up, but I did nothing. I never did anything; I let everyone think I was unfazed. I downed my cocktail and slammed the glass on the table slightly too hard. I reached over, took Liam’s drink, and I downed that, too. It was disgusting. Chloe’s head jerked to me and then to the empty side of the table. She was getting annoyed at me for my lack of care attitude.

Not even minutes after Chloe left the table, Liam came back. His face was flushed as if he had been caught—they were caught.

Liam confessed everything to me days later, and we called it off. At that moment, I was mad. I was furious that I was being played, yet I was the one playing him—playing them.

At work, my frustration settled. I wasn’t mad at him for picking her.

I explained everything that night to him. Liam wasn’t mad. He laughed about it. I clearly manipulated him, and the guy shook it off as if it was nothing. He must really love Emerson or is messed up in the head.

He loves her. That’s what it is.

I was happy. I was proud that someone like him wanted to be with my best friend. Liam cares about Emme the way any best friend would want their best friend to be cared for. He wants herfiercely. He understands her needs and fears but isn’t afraid of them. The way he sees her is beautiful.

If I were to have been with him, it would have been a loss. He never would have loved me as he loves Emme.

I can accept that.

What I can’t accept is how she now hates me.

I guess I get it. I didn’t tell her like I told Liam I would, but maybe Liam should have chatted with her about this before they decided to get together.

I don’t know if this is entirely my fault.No, it is, Natalie. You should have told her when you returned last summer.

Emme is hurting, and it’s my fault.

Not once did it cross my mind that she’d be this hurt. She feels betrayed by both of us now, betrayed by two people who love her, like a pawn in her own game of love.

And I’m not sure there is a next move.

55

EMERSON

Now

Why are there this many people grocery shopping on a Friday at 4:00? Isn’t there work to be done or bottles of wine to be consumed? I shouldn’t have to stand in front of the same display of avocados for ten minutes, waiting for a pathway to move.

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