Page 50 of Dear Ripley

It took a minute, but, eventually, she grinned. “I just think it’s interesting how Alicia looks at you.”

Everything about her tone made me want to suffocate her.

I stared at her across the table, my fingers playing with the soft tablecloth. “I think it’s more interesting that you thought any of… whatever that was… was appropriate to say, and that you think you now don’t have to explain yourself.”

She laughed. “Avoiding the subject, I see.”

“I’m not avoiding anything. I’m just looking for an explanation for why my best friend in the world decided to betray me.”

Of course, that statement might have landed better if I truly hadn’t been avoiding the subject. What other choice did I have, though? Being around Alicia was ridiculously hard. I wasn’t avoiding living my life because running into her was a little off-putting. Running into her with the Burtons was even worse because eight years hadn’t wiped away the memories of what it was like to be one of them, to be part of their family.

And I couldn’t even start on what it meant, or what it made me feel, that Alicia could barely look at me, and, when she did, she’d looked likethat. She had no right to look at me like she’d missed me, like she was finally seeing the sun again after a million dark nights. And she had no right still looking at me like she adored me. That time had long passed. We were different people with different lives now. And she had no right knowing anything about me, least of all the lengths I was going to avoid her. Fruitless as they were.

It was funny how things changed. Once upon a time, I’d ached to run into her every time I stepped out of the house. I increased my visits to places I knew she liked in hopes of seeing her, I stayed out of the house more for the off-chance we’d run into each other, and, if we did, my whole day was made.

Now, it just made me tired. I was itching to just leave Morgan here and curl up in bed, the covers pulled tight over my head, so the world couldn’t see how much Alicia Burton still broke me.

But I’d promised Morgan, and she had begged for days. As much as I didn’t want to admit it while I was annoyed, I probably did owe it to her, too. She’d given up our usual routines and freedom to avoid Alicia just as much as I had. I could at least give her one dinner.

She huffed, looking down at the menu as she spoke. “Look, Harlow and I—and basically everyone else in town—know you two need to be around each other. Maybe you’re not ready to admit you’re still—”

“I’m not still anything with her,” I said quickly, unwilling to hear that thought through to its conclusion. But she didn’t need to say it for my heart to fill in the blanks.

Morgan shook her head. “Sure. If you say so. But, either way, you’re both here now, Jackson Point is a small community, you’re going to run into each other, and you need to both deal with that.”

“You do realize Harlow is the one who moved back here, right? Alicia’s only visiting.”

“Eh. If Harlow’s here, she’s here. If Harlow’s hereandyou’re here, she’s not going to stay away for long.”

The way my stomach twisted made me feel unwell. It wasn’t fair for her to keep saying these things when she must know how much they hurt. “I’ve been here for the last eight years and that hasn’t brought her back to town. I think you might be overestimating whatever pull you think I have.”

She looked up at me like she saw through the bravado with ease. Maybe she did. She knew me better than anyone.

It would just have been polite of her to at least pretend she couldn’t.

“Well, she’s here now. She’s seen you. You’ve… kind of talked to each other. Things are different now.” She paused, grinning for a moment, and the anticipation twisted bitterly inside me. “Harlow and I are just saying, now you’re back in each other’s lives, if you fell into bed together, would that really be the worst thing?”

I stared at her, my brain feeling as though it were wading through sludge trying to make sense of her comments. “You’re telling me, what? That you and Harlow think I should be ex-wives with benefits with Alicia?”

I couldn’t believe she’d even implied that. Part of me hoped I was massively misunderstanding, but I knew I wasn’t.

How was Harlow even in on this plan? I wasn’t sure when she and Morgan had time to discuss it, and, in reality, I wouldn’t put it past Morgan to think this was a good idea, but Harlow? I thought she had more sense than that.

Morgan waved her hand through the air. “Actually, we think you should just get back together, but, for starters, friends with benefits would work.”

I stared at her, feeling dizzy. I didn’t do casual. I didn’t really do anything, not since Alicia, and I wasn’t about to start doing both.

It was like having a conversation with someone I barely knew, not my best friend who should know better.

I sucked in a painful breath. “To be friends with benefits, you need to actually be friends, I imagine.”

“Which is why you need to be around each other, sharing details of your lives and stuff. You’re never going to be friends again if you don’t hang out together. Like, I’m sure Phyllis in Seattle is great and all, but we don’t spend any time together, so we’re not friends, are we?”

“Who the fuck is Phyllis?”

“No idea. And that’s my point.”

A member of staff appeared before I could even think of a response, let alone get a response out. Initially, I was frustrated, but, after a moment, I realized it was a saving grace. What was there to say? Morgan was out here making up random people in random cities to make a point about me being friends with Alicia, with the end goal of us sleeping together. Logic had clearly left the building. And it had been gone a while.

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