Page 75 of Summertime Friends

“Thanks.” I give her a weak smile as we walk into Margot’s office.

***

Margot is a bitch, but we all knew that already. Twenty minutes later, Blake, the rest of my team, and I exit her conference-style office. We were informed that we are being pulled from an upcoming campaign to launch Bamboo’s new all-organic sunscreen line. Blake is devastated. Besides Hayes Hotels, this would have been her most extensive campaign yet. I’m pissed because I’ve been working with Bamboo for all of their product releases for the past two years. Margot didn’t even give us a good enough reason for why we were getting pulled from the account.

“Shitty excuse for a shitty situation from a shitty person,” Blake mutters quietly to me, and the lack of composure in words from her surprises me. “At least we can focus on Hayes Hotels more now.”

Yay, how exciting. Like I need more time to focus on Liam.

With anger-colored glasses on, I grab my phone from my desk and slump into my chair. Mad at Margot, mad at Liam, mad atNatalie, and mad at myself for feeling this way. I fire off a text without thinking.

Do you know how often I thought about contacting you? Fighting with myself on whether I should or shouldn’t reach out to you. I convinced myself that after everything, you’d reach out to me. That you would apologize. When you didn’t, I had to convince myself that you meant what you said and hated me so much that you ‘lost’ my number or blocked me. I had to believe this so I wouldn’t hurt myself all over again. Three years. Three years, and this entire time, you’ve had my number? If this was all part of your plan to get back at me, consider it a gold-star success.

Without wasting another minute, I type out another message and press send.

You could have talked to me then, just like I could talk to Natalie now. Don’t fight her battles when you couldn’t fight ours. I need time. . . you just better hope for her sake I don’t wait three years.

The rest of the workday was incredibly slow. After Margot’s meeting, I threw myself into the current campaign I’m working on. Dotting I’s and crossing T’s, perfecting the campaign to thepoint where there is no question about whether my team should be pulled from another account.

I also hoped that work would rid me of this headspace.

My brain had other plans.

Graciously, it fixated on what I had sent Liam.

I was a bitch.

It was entirely out of line with everything I said. Liam doesn’t reply despite my incessant checking for messages. I’m surprised my phone battery didn’t die, considering how many times I tapped the screen or turned the volume on and off.

I don’t think he will reply.

I don’t deserve a response.

I’m making dinner when my phone rings. On the screen is Natalie’s name and a picture of us from Halloween circa 2007, dressed as Candy Land characters that my mom made. She’s, of course, Princess Lolly, and I was required to be Queen Frostine.

I checked that my sheet pan meal in the oven wasn’t burning before grabbing my phone and answering.

“Nat! Hey. I’m sorry about this week. Work has been swamped, and I was pulled from Bamboo’s new product launch, but that doesn’t matter. You are my best friend, and I should always have time for you,” I force out the half-truth quickly when I pick up the phone.

“This isn’t Natalie,” a male voice replies. “I didn’t think you’d answer a call from me after your texts earlier.”

“Oh—”

“Natalie is in the shower. I don’t have much time, but we need to talk.”

“About earlier. . . Liam, it was uncalled for. You weren’t doing anything but being kind. I was fired up about work and took it out on you.” I am sincere about my apology.

“You were right.”

Liam catches me off guard.I was right?

Before I get a chance to reply, he continues, “Leave the ball in whoever’s court out of this. This is on both of us.”

“Okay. . .”

“But do you think I didn’t want to talk to you? Countless times, I picked up the phone to call. I’d write entire messages and then delete all of them. Over and over again. I told you I loved you, and you rejected me. Then you told me not to contact you and to delete your number. My ego bruised and heart—my heart that I gave you—destroyed. I cared about you deeply. You were my best friend. In a way, I thought maybe you’d come back, you’d reach out. . . but you never did.”

Words and emotions I know, but now, in a tense I don’t want to accept.

---