Page 140 of Forever Then

Twenty feet might as well be twenty miles as my best friend’s frame fades into the crowd in the distance, the love of my life running after him.

I can’t help but think that, despite my best efforts to keep them, I’ve somehow managed to lose them both.

Chapter Forty-Six

DON’T SAY THINGS YOU DON’T MEAN

Gretchen

After trailingDrew for twenty minutes through three very intentional wrong turns, I conceded his desire to be alone. Rest assured though; I’m no quitter. That’s how I ended up here at his doorstep. He’ll come home eventually and I’ll make him talk to me if it’s the last thing I do.

Yet, there’s a ripple in my gut that says to go back to Connor.

He’s in love with me.

I wanted to shout it right back, but Drew wouldn’t let anyone else get a word in edgewise.

Connor never told me the details of those months after Drew’s wedding and I never asked for them. He said he became the worst version of himself. He told me he drank too much and he mentioned other women. Someone else might hear those things and think less of him, label him as one giant red flag—that was certainly Drew’s hope when he decided to air his best friend’s dirty laundry on a busy sidewalk for all of Chicago to hear. But I don’t see theman Connor used to be. I see the man inside—the man he’s always been.

His past has never mattered to me. Connor has to know that by now. But the way he looked on that bench where I left him? Broken. Ashamed. Vulnerable. Haunted.

His past stillhauntshim. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here at all.

Or maybe it’s exactly why the blood red rage staining my vision has me knocking on my brother’s door, ready to fight for the man I love.

When Reagan opens the door, her smile falters as she takes in my expression. “What’s the matter?”

“I know my brother’s not home yet, but can I stay until he gets here? I really need to talk to him.”

“Of course.” She swings the door open and I step inside. “Did something happen at lunch?”

I plop down on the couch and fall back against the cushions as she takes up her previous spot on the chaise end of the sectional marked by the fresh Reagan-sized indentation and a blanket that’s been tossed aside.

“You could say that.”

Reagan shifts in her seat, grimacing through the discomfort in her abdomen as she repositions herself.

“God, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t be here. I can talk to Drew later. I’ll let you rest.” I move to get up, but she stops me.

“Like hell you will. I’m tired of everyone tiptoeing around me. If you have drama to distract me from mine, I’m first in line to listen.” She pauses, breathing deeply. “I don’t want to talk about me orthis”—she gestures over her body—“anymore. It hurts. It sucks. I’m mad. I’m sad. End of story. Let’s move on.”

I swallow hard. Message received.

“So, out with it,” she adds with an amused gleam in her eyes that immediately puts me at ease.

At that, the words spill out of me. “Well, basically, I went and fell in love with Drew’s best friend and before I could tell my family that I found my birth family in Arizona—which is complete with amom, a dad, two brothers, two sisters and a partridge in a pear tree, by the way—Drew found out about the aforementioned love-falling, completely lost it on Connor—who somehow loves me, too, only I didn’t know that until about thirty minutes ago—and now I’m here to murder my brother for being a giant asshole.”

Reagan’s eyes are saucers, mouth agape.

“Yeah, I know,” I say.

“Wow. Okay. That’s a lot. Um…wine? Yes, wine. We need wine.” Reagan gestures toward the wine rack in the kitchen and I oblige.

“Wait, you, like, just had surgery. Should you be drinking?”

The saucers turn to slits, face dour.

“Right. Wine.”

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