Page 48 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

Twisting her mug between her hands, she stares me down, her mouth set in a firm line that’s always meant she has something to say.

“What, Ma? What’s that look for?”

The corner of her mouth tips up. It may have been a mistake to open that door. “Are we ever going to discuss the huge elephant in the room, or should I say, huge elephant who was sitting next to you on that bench last weekend?”

I drop my head back and chuckle. “Did you just call Rachel a huge elephant? Oh, she’s going to love that.”

Mom scowls. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but still, I would avoid referring to women as elephants if I were you.”

She nods at me with a grin. “Duly noted. But, seriously, Flynn, I think we should talk about you and Rachel.”

The acidic, really bad coffee churns in my stomach. If Mom didn’t love this place so much, I would insist we go somewhere else after Mass each week, but I don’t have the heart to bring it up when this was her and Dad’s place for so long. It’s a sentimental thing and has nothing to do with the quality of the coffee or food.

I push my mug away and instead reach for my water glass. Something cold might help chill the heat rising up my spine. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

My words come out sharp and a little harsher than I had intended, and Mom offers me a scowl.

“Your reaction just proves my point. I’m not blind, Flynn. You’re in love with that girl.”

I groan and rub my temples. “Even if I am”—I hold up a hand—“and I’m not saying I am—it doesn’t matter. We could never be together.”

“Why not?” Her question is so simple, and she says it like the answer should be, too.

Far from it.

If things were that easy, I wouldn’t have spent the last five years with my heart belonging to someone who will never claim it.

“Because she’s my best friend. If something were to happen and we broke up…” Like perhaps she found out I jerk off for total strangers on the internet. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, knowing I had ruined the closest friendship I’ve ever had.”

Mom tsks and shakes her head. “You’re looking at this all wrong, Flynn.”

“How so?”

She stares down at her coffee for a minute, and when she looks up, her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “Yes, there’s a risk that if things go badly, you could damage your friendship, but the potential reward far outweighs that. Look at your father and me. We were best friends before we got married. That old saying that you should marry your best friend is an old saying for a reason, kiddo.” She swallows thickly. “Somebody you’re friends with before you get romantically involved with usually already knows you pretty well. They know your deepest, darkest secrets. They know you in and out—likes and dislikes, the adorable little quirks that make you you, and you haven’t scared them away yet. That’s what makes them perfect for you. That’s what makes you and Rachel perfect for each other.”

If only she knew the truth. She wouldn’t be talking like this is some fairy tale or cheesy romance novel. This is real life—where we have secrets we keep even from our best friends.

“I wish that were true, Ma, but it’s just not.”

Rachel doesn’t know my deepest darkest secrets. She doesn’t know everything that makes me tick. She’s blind to a huge part of my life. Everyone is. And it’s the way it has to be.

Mom means well, and what she said about her and Dad is true. They had the perfect relationship, the ideal marriage. They were always laughing and touching each other and kissing. As a kid, it grossed me out to know my parents were still so into each other, but now, as an adult, I can see how healthy the relationship was and how everyone should strive to find it.

What she said might be true for other people, it just isn’t for Rachel and me.

I reach across the table and grab her hand. “Ma, I appreciate it. I really do, but there are things you don’t know. Things you can’t understand, and things I’m not really at liberty to discuss.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “At liberty to discuss?”

That may have been the wrong phrase to use, but I hope she won’t question me any further.

“I can’t discuss.”

“Are you all right, Flynn? You haven’t really been yourself lately.”

No, I’m not. And I know I haven’t been acting like myself. Between Rachel and our argument, HRD4U and his adoring fans, work and unhappy clients, and Father Lafayette and his judgment, it feels like an avalanche sweeping me under it.

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