Page 104 of We Can't Be Friends

“Why would I be?”

“Because this is your space, and she didn’t ask. She’s invading our routine.”

I shrug my shoulders. “She’s your sister.”

“You really aren’t upset?”

I rest my hand on his chest. His heart rate picks up before slowing as if my touch steadies him. “No, I’m not. I won’t be sharing a room or clothes with her, and if she doesn’t like dogs, I may sick Tucker on her, but I’m not.”

“Auds’ going to crash in Liam’s old room.”

“It’s going to be okay. Fun, even. I’m excitedto get to know her.”

I pat his chest, moving to step around him. His hand circles my wrist, and his thumb rubs along my pulse, keeping us connected.

“Why won’t she tell me why she’s here? Do you think I did something and that’s why?” The hurt in his tone elevates.

“She did, Cal.”

“I know Audrey, there’s more to it.”

“And if that’s true, she’ll tell you when she’s ready.” I try to give him a soft smile, but he’s not accepting it. “Hey. Look at me.” Blue eyes bleed into mine. I switch our positions, my thumb pressing into his throbbing pulse. “Audrey’s okay.”

“Canyoutalktoher?” he asks quickly, the words blending.

“Audrey has been here for what? Two or three hours?” I wasn’t gone that long. “If she doesn’t tell you in a couple of days, I’ll talk to her. Deal?”

“Thank you, Daisy,” he murmurs.

***

Leaning on the counter, I watch Callum and Audrey in the living room. She’s cross-legged on the couch, pushing his shoulder. Cal is laughing at whatever she said. They’ve been at it for an hour. Conversation hasn’t idled between them, flowing like the Nile River.

They remind me of Aaron and I.

The ease of their relationship, how simple it was to be present around the other without judgment, only unconditional love and support.

I swipe away a tear that sneaks out and have to turn away to grab a paper towel because that does little to stop the other tears that slip by.

I offered to make dinner tonight. Cal immediately offered to order takeout—I think he knows there is a fifty-fifty shot that itwould be inedible. I told him I could make pancakes; that’s one thing in my wheelhouse.

Cal peeks over Audrey’s shoulder, eyes reeled into mine.

He doesn’t know about Aaron. Not that anyone does. I never wanted a billboard behind me showcasing my greatest mistake.

People knowing, Cal knowing, would mean that the day wouldn’t just replay to me internally, but I’d be forced to relive it externally. Grief, dang. It has me feeling like a champagne bottle that’s been shaken up one too many times, waiting to explode.

I give Cal a thumbs up.

“I’ll be right back,” I overhear him tell Audrey.

“Get me some water?” she asks. “Please.”

I turn around, flipping pancakes on the griddle in the middle of the gas stove.

“You good?”

“Great.”

---