Page 26 of Every Broken Promise
“No, you don’t,” he acknowledged. “I want you back in my life, Astrid.”
“For what? So, you can just toss me aside whenever it suits your needs?”
He winced at this.
I began to walk away because, at this point, we seemed to be going around in circles.
“Once I have you back in my life, I won’t ever let you go again.”
His words were a vow that made my heart speed up.
Best friend, Astrid. He just wants to be best friends again.
ELEVEN
“I won’t ever letyou go again.”
Ty’s words were haunting me. Like nasty little snakes, they slithered in and out of my subconscious. They slithered in there so much that my Sunday night had been ruined. Too bad for me, this was the Monday-est Monday of them all.
Once I was out of my house, I made my way next door to Rachel’s. I had cultivated our friendship enough, and it was time to unleash the extent of my Astridness. Rachel seemed shy, but we got along well, which meant it was time to take our friendship to the next level. Good thing people couldn’t read thoughts, or they would think I was a psycho.
I made my way to her house and knocked. When she opened the door, she was already dressed and ready to go.
“Why are you so cool?” It was a rhetorical question. Honestly, I should have started with a hello.
Rachel was currently working on the campaign for the mayor of Willow Grove. He wasn’t a good guy. And I knew this from all the tips about him having an affair that flooded my column. The good guys didn’t cheat. Cheating was like a gateway sin that led you to bigger and more evil things.
Rachel had what I considered a big girl job, so she had to dress the part. Ronnie couldn’t give two shits about what we wore to work as long as we weren’t naked and in sweatpants. He was cool with casual or formal attire.
Rachel is who I aspired to be when I was older. Someone with their shit together, not just financially, but in looks.
She wore high-waisted tan pants that were flared at the bottom. They were tailored to perfection because she was already wearing her heels, and you could only see one inch of them. On top, she had a square-neck crop top. If I hadn’t already suspected that Rachel came from money—because, hello, tailoring one’s clothes screamed money—the Hermès belt wrapped around her waist would have been a dead giveaway.
“Good morning, Astrid. How may I help you?”
She was also polite as ever.
“I had a really shitty afternoon yesterday, and I need coffee before I go to work today. I need good coffee, and judging by the smell of the espresso you just brewed, you’ve got the kind of caffeine I need.”
She looked at me, and the eye bags in my eyes, and stepped aside, letting me in.
“Nice pad,” I told her as I took in her house.
The outside was outdated, like most houses around here, but the inside was pure class. It was like an oasis of relaxation.
She had light wooden floors, a cream carpet, and gray sofas. Her walls were a darker shade of gray, and something about the decor just screamed old money.
It was like stepping into a showroom at a furniture store. Meanwhile, my house was a mismatch of things from over the years. I liked to think our house had character.
“Thank you,” she replied softly. “It feels homey.”
“If working for the pervy mayor doesn’t work out, interior design is your calling.”
At that, she smiled.
I followed her to her kitchen, and it was white and black with marble countertops.
It was beautiful.
