10
Truly: Good morning! It’s my six-month detox check-in.
Charlotte: Has it actually been six months since THE INCIDENT, aka what you described as the best sex of your life?
Truly: Grrr. You’re so not helpful.
Charlotte: Ah, but I thought good sex was one of the five great pleasures in life.
Truly: What are the other four again?
Charlotte: Sarcasm, cats riding Roombas, a well-made margarita, and high heels that feel like slippers. You know the kind—dainty and pretty on the outside and large and roomy on the inside.
Truly: I feel like those are three truths and a lie, because that last one does not exist.
Charlotte: Good sex does. But wait, we’re not talking about good sex. We’re talking about the fact that you’re avoiding it. How hard is that?
Truly: It’s awful. He’s too charming, too amusing, too easy to be with. He’s like a bag of popcorn. Have you ever tried to eat just one handful of popcorn?
Charlotte: That’s unnatural. Who the hell can do that?
Truly: Not me, that’s for sure. But here’s the deal: I’m going to be spending more time with him. He asked me to go to a few weddings with him for work, like as his plus-one, and I need his help with my work stuff too.
Charlotte: You’re going to be spending more time with the guy you want badly and have been secretly into forever? Sounds super wise.
Truly: Exactly. Help me.
Charlotte: I have just the thing for you. Can I show you the e-mail you sent me the morning after? Maybe you need a reminder of how you felt the next day.
From: MixologistExtraordinaire at gmail
To: LuckySpotGirl at gmail
Re: Confessions of a Bad Girl
I am the worst twin sister in the world.
The absolute worst.
How could I do this?
And by this, I mean engage in earth-shattering, toe-curling, bend-me-over-the-bed-and-take-me-hard sex with my brother’s best friend. By the way, did I mention the sex was incredible?
Oh, wait. I did.
But I’m not surprised, because I’ve always liked his company. He’s funny and clever, and he has this irreverent side that’s fascinating and wildly entertaining.
But we were only supposed to go snowboarding.
WE’VE SNOWBOARDED TOGETHER BEFORE WITHOUT INCIDENT.
It all seemed innocuous, right? A day on the slopes in January.
At the end of the final run, the sun had already set, and we headed into the ski lodge and made plans to meet for dinner.
I didn’t even drink at dinner. Neither did he. We just talked the whole time, and there was candlelight. Stupid candlelight. And he was flirting, and he always flirts, but this time . . . this time we weren’t in New York. We were far enough away I could forget everything that went wrong years ago.
Did I ever tell you about Sarah, my closest friend growing up? She was the shoulder I leaned on when my father died, and we were the best of friends all through college. After graduation, she told me she wanted to go out with my brother and asked for my permission. Shocking, right?
But I talked to Malone about her anyway.
When I asked if he wanted to date Sarah, he said only if it was okay with me. Only if it was all out in the open. I said go for it. No one was sneaking around, so it was fine.
He went out with her for a few months, and at first, it was great. Until Sarah wanted more. She kept pushing him, and when he didn’t want the same things she did, she turned into a different person. She was now Sarah, wound up and tortured edition, pining away for a man.
Malone ended it with her, and then she ended it with me.
One morning she met me for coffee to “break up” with me. She said she couldn’t bear to see me anymore because I reminded her of him. When she got over him, maybe we could be friends again, she’d said. That was well over a decade—nearly thirteen years—ago. And I haven’t seen or heard from her since.
Yes, I was younger, and sure, in some ways this was early-twenties relationship drama. But, Charlotte, as I’m writing this, my throat’s tight and my stomach’s churning. No one tells you how much it hurts to lose a friend.
But you know what hurt more?
What it did to my brother and me.
Nothing was the same between us for months. Everything was awkward and tense, and we barely spoke to each other. When things eventually returned to normal, we made a deal—we’d never date a friend of each other’s again.
