Page 80 of Knocked Up by my Rival

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked, talking around the food rolling around in his mouth.

“What’s there to do?” I asked. “She doesn’t want to talk to me, and I don’t blame her. I wanted to try to make it right—apologize, at least—but she doesn’t want to talk to me, and frankly, I’m not going to push it if she’s not interested.”

Scott frowned. “You’re giving up really quickly.”

“What’s the point pursuing it when it’s clearly not what she wants?” I asked.

“Who says it’s not what she wants?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m pretty sure her anger at me yesterday—completely understandable—and the fact that she’s refusing to take my calls is an indicator.”

“So, you’re just letting it go?”

“Why the hell not?” I asked. “She doesn’t care, and right now, I don’t either?”

“That’s a load of bullshit,” Scott said, taking his next bite before he chewed and kept talking. “Don’t try to sell me this shit that you don’t care. I know you’re in marketing, and you can sell ice to an Eskimo, but seriously, bro, don’t fuck with me. Iknowyou.”

“Good,” I said, putting down the sandwich I’d picked up without taking a bite. I wasn’t hungry; everything seemed to turn to sand in my mouth. “That means you know that I’m good at this.”

“Good at what?” Scott washed his half-chewed bite down with coffee, and I scrunched my nose at the idea of the food mixed with the coffee taste.

“Good at knowing that I’m good at dealing with losing someone.”

Scott snorted. “Good, my ass. You suck at dealing with loss.”

“Thanks, asshole,” I said, bristling.

“I’m serious,” Scott said. “I mean, look at you. You’re where you are because you can’t let go.”

I leaned back in my seat, looking around the cafeteria, exasperated.

“Will you stop with that? You keep telling me that shit, and I don’t actually care to hear it.”

“If you don’t want a dollop of good fucking advice, then don’t come to me with your problems,” Scott said simply. He finished his sandwich and balled up the wax paper it had been wrapped in before he downed the rest of his coffee.

“I always talk to you about my problems,” I pointed out.

“And I always tell you exactly what I think. That’s why this works—we tell each other what the rest of the world is scared to tell us.”

I didn’t argue with him because he was right. One of the reasons Scott and I were so close despite our age difference was because we’d always been real with each other. It was so much easier to be real with him than have him be real with me, if I had to be honest.

“Fine,” I said flatly. “Let me have it.”

“Losing someone to death is not the same as losing someone the way you lost her.”

Yeah, I was starting to realize that. I didn’t say it.

“The thing is, it might be loss either way, but you can stop one of them if you get your head out of your ass and do something about it. You can actually get her back if you try hard enough.”

“She wants nothing to do with me,” I said.

“Then keep trying. If she’s worth it, then do what you need to do to get her back. It’s really that simple.”

I shook my head. “That’s not simple at all.”

“No? If you don’t do something soon, she’ll slip through your fingers for good and then that loss is completely on you.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. I sipped the soda I’d bought but it tasted bland. Nothing tasted good anymore.

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