I shut my eyes and try to concentrate on my breathing, in and out, as a shudder reverberates deep in my stomach. I don’t know whether to scream, or cry, or break something. But I never do any of these things. I do exactly what I’m doing now, which is fall to pieces in silence.
“What did you say?” I ask in a voice that doesn’t sound like mine.
“I said no, to which she made the comment that you’re too trauma-bonded to Colson to let him go.” All sounds cease and I can’t hear anything but a monotone ring in my ear as fight or flight takes hold. “Then I left.”
Bowen barely gets the last word out before I stand up and glide around the sofa, making my way to the kitchen where I swipe my keys off the wall hook. Nearly catatonic, I hear him say my name as I turn the corner to the foyer, dipping down to snatch my purse next to the door before slamming it behind me.
●●●
Halfway to Barrett’s house, my phone starts buzzing. As soon as I see she’s calling, I clench my teeth, spitting curses as I try to keep it together. She calls another two times before I pull onto her street, but I don’t answer. Instead, I let the rage build with each passing moment, marinating on everything that’s transpired over the past week—everything I’ve told her.
Our entire friendship plays over in my mind in a matter of minutes.
There were signs. Did I miss the signs? How could I miss the signs? It’s because I’m so distracted with every other bizarre thing happening in my life. I slam my palm down on the top of the steering wheel in frustration, letting out a shrill squeak.
Barrett answers the door immediately, looking startled when she sees me standing on the front step, “You’re here,” she sounds both relieved and uneasy as she steps aside to let me in.
I turn around to face her as soon as she shuts the door, “Did Bowen come to your house today?”
Barrett’s silent for a few seconds, her demeanor changing slightly as she looks at me.
“Yeah,” she pauses, pursing her lips, “did he tell you what happened?”
I just stare at her.
Why are you so calm?
I narrow my eyes suspiciously, “Yeah?”
Barrett shakes her head, “I’m sorry, I should’ve called you right away. I had a full schedule, and I just didn’t want to deal with it until after I—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I roar, making her jump.
Her jaw drops, “Brett, what—”
“You tried to fuck my fiancé!” It comes tumbling out like a dam break, and I’m powerless to stop it.
Barrett blinks, probably in just as much shock that I’m shouting as she is about the situation, “What?” She lowers her voice to a near whisper and squints at me, “What are you talking about?”
I’m shaking so bad, I have to plant a hand on the wall to steady myself, which doesn’t work anyway.
My breaths only become more labored as I try to get to the point, “I saw your texts.”
“What texts?” She furrows her brow, “The ones after he left?”
“Yeah,” I hiss, “after you sent him a picture of your tits!”
Barrett stills, her eyes bulging like she’s glitching out. She blinks again and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out except panicked breaths.
“What? No!” she finally blurts out, “I never sent him any picture!”
Barrett spins around, searching the room until she sees her phone sitting on the island. Four strides later, she swipes it off the countertop and begins swiping and tapping furiously.
“Look!” she thrust her phone in my face, “I never sent him any picture!”
I glare at her, looking past the screen, not seeing the screen, only seeing the face of my best friend who’s just betrayed me in the worst way possible, “How. Fucking. Convenient.”
“It’s not here, Brett!” she shakes the phone at me in desperation, “Look at the texts!”
“I already looked at them. Why the hell do you think I’m here?”
Barrett’s face relaxes and morphs from panic to defiance, then lifts her finger and points at me, “I don’t know what the fuck is happening right now, but there shouldn’t be any reason Bowen has any picture of me on his phone.”
“Is that why you also came downstairs in nothing but your underwear?”
Barrett’s jaw drops and her eyes flash with fury, “That is not what happened!” she growls, “What the fuck is Bowen telling you?”
For a moment, I consider asking Barrett what happened, but I don’t. Because what’s there to pour over, go over step-by-step in grueling detail? I’ve already seen the texts and her naked body on Bowen’s phone. What else is there to tell? There’s nothing.
I stare back at her with momentary sadness, “Is this my punishment for telling you what happened with Colson?” my voice cracks and falls to a near whisper, “Is this why you told Bowen I’m broken and I’ll never get over Colson?”
“No!” she snaps, incredulous.
My voice cracks as the sobs threaten to break through, “I shouldn’t mind because what I did was so terrible—because I don’t deserve someone like Bowen anymore?”
“I have never once uttered Colson’s name to Bowen—ever! Bowen was the one who brought him up this morning.”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever told what really happened. How would he have known any of that?” I drag my hand across my face and then bring it down with a smack at my side, “I trusted you!”
