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Dear Fallon,
I have something to tell you. If you ever read this, which I doubt you will, know that I’m happy you’re happy. I’m not sure how long I’ve felt this way. I can’t find a single moment when I didn’t. I guess it’s just been something I’ve always felt. But, while I’m not sure when this started, I’m sure it’ll never stop. But I do know when I finally realised I could never have what I wanted. I remember it like it was yesterday.
I sat at the bar of La Mirage, swirling my drink around in its glass. My eyes followed other patrons coming in and out of the bar, disappearing upstairs or into a booth. I pressed my lips into a fine line and pulled my phone from my bag to check the time, or if he had texted me an excuse explaining why he was late. He hadn’t. He was almost a half-hour late. He wasn’t coming. I swallowed my annoyance and ordered another drink. I might as well have enjoyed myself while I was there.
I crossed one leg over the other and swung my head around again to find you coming towards me, a scowl deep on your lips. You sat on the barstool next to me, letting out a heavy exhale and resting your head on your folded arms atop the bar. I turned fully in my seat to look at you, raising an eyebrow both out of confusion and concern. You were wearing a parka and jeans. That seemed more of a cause for concern than your behaviour.
“Rough day?” I asked, an edge of teasing in my voice. It wasn’t intentional. Now didn’t seem an appropriate time for teasing.
You sat up straight again, pulling your jacket from around your shoulders and laying it over your lap. You fixed your eyes to the ceiling for a short moment before bringing them back down to fall on me. You shook your head, but not to deny my suggestion. You stuck out your bottom lip, your brow creased. You were pouting. This was about Liam. It was always about Liam. A tiny part of myself hoped you’d broken up with him, or vice versa. I knew this wasn’t the case. You’d be in a far worse state than this if you had. I pushed that glimmer of hope down deep, forcing it from the forefront of my mind. I couldn’t dare seem disappointed when you told me you two were still together.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, placing a hand on yours. You looked up at me again, something I didn’t recognise in your eyes. I rubbed your arm in an attempt to comfort you before I withdrew my hand, placing it on the bar top, a rush of heat creeping up my neck. “You know I’m always here to talk.”
You hesitated, dragging the silence to the very edge of awkward. You shifted your weight and picked at your cuticles. “Liam and I had a fight.” Your voice was barely audible, but it was laced with embarrassment. I tried to look sympathetic, but by the look you gave me in response, I doubted I was successful. “He doesn’t want kids and I don’t know what to do.”
I took a moment to digest your words, carefully choosing my next ones. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to offend you, but I didn’t want to lie to you, either. You were my best friend. My insides squirmed as I tried to articulate the complex knot of my thoughts.
“Oh. I’m sorry. How bad was the fight?”
“It was pretty bad. We were house hunting, and I thought we found the perfect house. I told him I saw us growing old and raising a family there, and he started freaking out and yelling. We hadn’t discussed it before, but I always assumed it was something he wanted.” Your hand found your face, and you leant your cheek against it. You shrugged and pulled my drink towards yourself, taking a sip. “I was very wrong about that.”
I nodded, my eyes following the bartender to the other side of the room. I swallowed hard and folded my hands in my lap. I didn’t want to tell you to break up with Liam, even if I thought it was right and inevitable – and what I wanted.
“I think you need to talk to him more about it. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but if you don’t agree on something as big as children, I don’t think it’ll work long term. No matter how in love you are.” The words fell from my tongue at a snail’s pace. “Is Liam worth giving up the family you’ve always wanted?”
You stared at me for a few seconds, as though relistening to what I said. You stood from the barstool and folded the parka over your forearm. “Thank you. I’ll go talk to him now. I’ll talk to you later?”
Your face fell neutral, and every muscle in my body tensed. I had no idea what you were about to do. My stomach twisted painfully as I pulled a tight smile onto my lips and watched you leave the bar and ascend the stairs.
I sighed and downed the rest of my drink, choosing to keep you and your mess of a relationship out of my head. It wasn’t any of my business. I didn’t - and never would - have any say on what you did. Letting myself dwell on it was useless.
You had made a habit of calling me just after seven o’clock every evening after you and your brother rescued me from what you deemed a wellness cult to check on me – to make sure I hadn’t run away again. The phone calls were never long, and we only ever talked about what we did that day. Nothing of substance. I never complained. Anything to hear your voice.
I sat on the edge of my bed in La Mirage, buttoning my blouse and watching Adam get dressed. This needed to stop. It had been happening since Valentine’s Day, and we’d sworn it was the last time every time it happened. It never was. It needed to be. I needed to stop sleeping with your brother.
Adam sat down next to me and snaked his arm around me, putting a hand on my shoulder. We were about to have the same conversation we’d already had ten times over. This was a waste of time.
“This is the last time?” I beat him to the question. This wasn’t the last time, and we both knew it. We’d just never admit it out loud.
“I was going to apologise for being late,” he said. “But this is definitely the last time.” He squeezed my hands and gave a curt nod before turning to look at me again. We locked eyes for a few seconds and my mouth went dry and our bodies leaned ever closer to one another. That hadn’t been the last time. Not even close.
You called late. I hadn’t expected a call after our conversation a few hours before, but I was pleasantly surprised when your caller ID appeared on my phone. Adam lay asleep next to me. I slipped out of bed and out of the room.
“Hello?” I answered, closing the door behind me. I leant against the wall and crossed my ankles.
“Hey,” you said, your voice hushed but giddy. You sounded a lot more chipper than earlier. “So, I talked to Liam.”
I rolled my eyes. You’d done something stupid, and I could tell just by the sound of your voice. “I’m guessing it went well. You sound happy.” My irrational annoyance leaked through into my tone. It wasn’t supposed to.
“You sound angry. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
You had, but I wasn’t about to tell you that. “No, you’re fine. My dad is just getting on my nerves. So, how did it go?”
“It went well! We discussed it a little, and I told him I’d be willing to compromise having children to be with him.”
You had done something more than stupid. I missed selfish you. That version of you wouldn’t do this; wouldn’t throw away your wants and needs for some guy. I frowned. Again, I was at a loss for words. I far from agreed with your decision, but it had nothing to do with me. I couldn’t tell you that you were an idiot, no matter how true it was. I had no right.
“I’m glad you talked it out with him,” I started, my eyes tracing the hall for any sign of someone else. “But are you really sure about this? You’ve been talking about having children since I can remember.”
You made a small noise. I almost didn’t hear it. You weren’t sure, but you’d never admit that to me.
“Yes. I love Liam, more than anything else in the world. If having children isn’t the path we’re meant to take together, we won’t take it. I changed my mind.”
I scoffed. You had never changed your mind about anything in your life. It was your way or no way. When had you given all your autonomy to your boyfriend? This wasn’t like you at all.
“If you say so.”
There was a beat of charged silence. I thought the line had cut until you blew out an exhale after a few long moments.
“You think I should have broken up with him.” It was a statement. Not a question. You knew me too well.
Yes. “No, of course I don’t. You love him. I just don’t think you should have told him you’d compromise on having kids. You shouldn’t have to compromise on that kind of thing.”
“So, you think Liam should agree to have children just so he can be with me?”
I lowered the phone, dropping my hand to my side, and hit my head against the wall behind me. That wasn’t what I said, and you knew you were twisting my words. It was what you were good at. I counted backwards from ten and brought my phone to my ear again, letting my irritation bubble over.
“That’s not what I said. This isn’t any of my business, and I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I don’t think what you did was right, or fair on either of you. Someone is going to end up resentful in that situation.”
You hung up without any sort of goodbye. You didn’t like to admit you were wrong on the rare occasion you were. To you, it was akin to admitting defeat. And you never lost.
“I have something to tell you,” you said, pushing your brunch around on your plate. A smile pulled on the corner of your lips, and an air of excitement consumed you.
Our arguments never lasted long or were ever resolved. We hadn’t spoken in the four days since our disagreement over the phone. We both showed up to our weekly brunch anyway. We weren’t going to miss out on Saturday mimosas and French toast over some stupid argument.
“Oh?” I didn’t want to know. There was no doubt this was about Liam. I didn’t want to watch you put yourself through whatever this was and get hurt. I’d much prefer to stay out of it.
You nodded, your ghost of a smile expanding until you were practically beaming. “I’m going to ask Liam to marry me again.”
My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach. I knew this would happen eventually, but I hoped the day would never come. You had already proposed to Liam before, and that engagement fell through. You’d married him before, that didn’t last. I’d expected the novelty to wear off after a while and you to break up again before things could get serious. I never really expected you two to be in it for the long haul. I didn’t want you to be in it for the long haul.
I plastered on the best congratulatory grin I could muster and put down my fork. “Oh my God. That’s so great!” You almost seemed convinced. I wished I was a better liar. “When are you planning on asking him?”
You explained your plans for that evening, and I nodded along, my smile slipping from my lips the more I listened. I couldn’t swallow the lump in my throat or stop my heart from beating a mile a minute. I wanted to cry.
“Can you excuse me for a moment?” I rose from the table and made my way to the bathroom, my breathing becoming more and more unsteady with every step I took. My hands shook as I pushed open the door and darted into one of the vacant stalls. I closed the lid of the toilet and sat on it. I glued my eyes to the ceiling and counted backwards from ten, then one hundred, blowing air into my cheeks. I needed to calm down. I had no right to be this upset. You weren’t mine to be upset about. And you never would be.
I fished my phone from my pocket and pulled my legs under my chin. My fingers hovered over his name for a few seconds as I frantically tried to come up with a reason to be upset without outing myself. I locked my phone and placed it atop my knees. I had no one to talk to about this. I couldn’t talk about this to anyone.
I didn’t cry, which I classed as a win. I’d spent too many nights crying over you. It was getting sad. I finally calmed my breathing, but my heart still beat madly in my chest. You wouldn’t notice that. I was fine to go back out.
You were on the phone when I came back out into the restaurant. I sat down and took a shaky sip from my mimosa, my emotions still on the brink of exposure. I tried to ignore your conversation, but the soft laughs and frequent ‘I love you’s sprinkled in were more than enough evidence that Liam was on the other end of the line. I didn’t want to hear it; I wanted to ignore it. It felt like you two were everywhere I turned.
“Sorry about that. Liam was just confirming our plans for dinner,” you said, your smile falling when she saw what must have been a rattled expression on my face. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” I said, trying my best to sound convincing. I wasn’t sure I did. You surveyed me for a moment, your eyes searing deep into mine. I rolled my eyes and let my face fall neutral, hoping to look bored; make it seem you were reading too much into things. Eventually, you bought it and brought your hands together on the tabletop.
“Okay! Well, I’ll talk to you later? Hopefully, I’ll have some good news!”
I nodded, that strained smile making a reappearance. I watched you leave and polished off both our drinks before leaving.
Adam sat waiting for me in my bedroom when I came home. He sat on my bed, cross-legged, giddy like a child. I greeted him with a raised eyebrow, dropping my bags on the floor at the end of the bed. He patted the spot next to him, an invitation for me to sit. I didn’t, continuing to stand with my weight on one leg, and figure out why he was here. We hadn’t made plans for him to meet me there. This wasn’t how we worked.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, taking a step forward but staying stood. “And how did you get in here? You told me Blake still won’t let you in.”
“No, I’m still banished. I haven’t spoken to Father. I just wanted to see you,” he said, reaching over to take my hand. Although close to repulsed by his use of the word ‘father’, I took his hand, melting slightly. I hadn’t gotten attention like this since Culhane.
“Oh.” My face burned with a blush and a tiny, involuntary smile pulled at the corners of my lips. I sat down next to him, our hands still joined. I crossed my ankles and tucked them under the bed and looked at him, the butterflies in my stomach turning to guilt, nauseating me. “Adam, I really appreciate it, but I’m really not up for it right now.”
Adam’s expression didn’t change, the same excited grin still plastered on his face. “That’s not why I’m here. I really like spending time with you, Kirby.” He paused, staring at me with a semblance of anticipation. I assured him I felt the same. It wasn’t a total lie. “And I thought that maybe we could see each other outside of our current arrangements.”
I stared at him for a long few moments, trying to figure out what he meant. Was he asking me out? Asking for us to just be friends? Why did he have to word it like that? He seemed to have caught my confusion and backtracked.
“I don’t mean that we have to be exclusive or official or anything. I just think a few dates would be fun… if you want.”
I smiled at him before I gave him my answer. I didn’t want to be his girlfriend, but I didn’t want to not date him, either. I did have fun with him, but I was also in love with his sister - you. Not that you would ever reciprocate my feelings. You were straight and very much in love with Liam. There was no hope for us. Adam could be a distraction from that. I supposed I could grow to love him; he wasn’t totally unlikeable. He would be the closest thing to you I’d ever get.
“I would like that,” I said, scooting closer to him. Anything to take my mind off you.
My phone shook me from my sleep two nights later. I blinked awake, my eyes straining in the darkness of my bedroom. I sat up, waiting for the cloud of sleep to lift from my head. I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and sighed. You were calling me. At three forty in the morning. Something major better have happened to justify this.
“Fallon, it’s like four in the morning what do you want?” I asked, my voice croaking. I hadn’t heard from you since our brunch. I suspected either Liam had rejected you and you’d holed yourself up somewhere to drown your sorrows with brown liquor and old movies, or you’d been so swept up in your new engagement to remember to call me. I was about to find out which one it was.
“Liam proposed!” you practically screamed down the phone. I pulled my phone a few inches from my ear and swallowed a frown. It would come across in my voice, and only you noticed that kind of thing. “We’re engaged!”
I know you’ve been heartbroken before. You were devastated for a whole entire week after you broke up off your almost five-year-long relationship with Culhane. And you were in relationships before that. At least one of them must have ended badly. But, I doubt it came anywhere close to how I felt when those words sailed through my phone’s speaker. Everything stopped for a moment, and it was as though you’d shoved my face in freezing water. Icy chills crept down my spine and I didn’t know how to react. I sucked in a breath and beamed for you. If you were happy, I was happy. I tried to be, anyway.
“Congratulations!” I yelled, trying to meet your excitement. I didn’t. “You have to tell me everything!”
I didn’t want to know one detail of his proposal. I listened anyway and squealed with excitement with you. I wanted to set my phone down on my bed and pretend I’d fallen asleep again, but I didn’t. I listened to you recount it in great depth, my heart cracking right through the middle.
“And there were roses everywhere, and he got down on one knee and…”
You went on, telling me all about the dinner you went to afterward. You seemed to have forgotten that you’d planned to propose to him and hadn’t gotten the chance to do it. It didn’t matter now. You were getting married either way.
We hung up at close to five, my eyes barely open, but my head in overdrive. I didn’t go back to sleep. I lay on my back in bed, staring at the ceiling. I knew I couldn’t have you before, but it all seemed so real now. The tiny glimmer of hope I didn’t even know I had slipped through my fingers and out of reach.
You sent me a hundred pictures of the room Liam proposed in, and your ring, and you two after the fact. I sent back a hundred emojis - the crying one, confetti, the one wearing a party hat - trying to look excited for you - which I was. Just not as excited as I should have been when my best friend told me they’d just gotten engaged.
You brought Monica and me with you to go dress shopping. You decided against bringing your mother and Cristal this time. You didn’t want them fighting and ending up ripping one of the dresses. I still don’t know what you meant by that. You and I drove together and met Monica there.
“I know this is a weird place to ask you. But, would you be one of my bridesmaids?” you asked as we left the manor’s driveway. You were right, it was a weird place to ask, but I didn’t mind. As long as you asked.
“Yes, of course!” I said in reply, more monotonous than I would have liked. I didn’t mean to sound disinterested, but you were driving. I didn’t want you to crash the car. You seemed hurt, though. Your face fell and you straightened your spine, pushing your shoulders back against the car seat. “I’d love to!” I added some life to my tone, and you loosened up a fraction.
“Really?” you said, acting as though you were surprised I’d accepted. You should have known I’d do almost anything you asked me to. I nodded, smiling at you.
“Of course. Who else are you asking?”
You’d asked Monica to be your maid of honour already. She’d posted about it on her close friends Instagram story a few days before. For a moment I was almost offended. Not quite, but close. But, Monica is your best friend, and has been as long as you’ve known her. I can’t say the same about me. While we’ve known each other since I was in diapers, we haven’t always gotten along. It was fair that you asked her.
“Just you and Monica. We decided to keep things small.”
I’m almost sure that was code for you weren’t letting the press in.
We met Monica there. She sat in her car in the parking lot when we pulled in. You waved to her as you reversed into the spot next to her. We walked in together, the two of you excitedly giggling about necklines. I should have shown more enthusiasm than smiling awkwardly every time you or her turned to me for more than a second.
You tried on five dresses before you found the one. You looked beautiful in all of them, obviously. You’d look good in a garbage bag.
You were already crying when you came out of the dressing room. The dress was a lot simpler than I’d expected it to be, and the ones you’d tried on before. Strapless. Lace bodice. A-line. It was stunning. You were stunning. My throat tightened and tears brimmed my lash line. Monica’s hand rose to cover her mouth.
“This is it. This is my wedding dress,” you said, wiping your eyes and staring at your reflection in the mirror. You pushed your hair behind your shoulder and turned to us, beaming. “What do you think?”
“You look beautiful. It’s perfect,” Monica said, staring at you in awe. She held her hands over her heart and nodded. “You should get this one.”
“Yeah. This one is gorgeous,” I said, slowly gaining back my composure. You stared at me for a moment, like you were waiting for me to protest. I wouldn’t, no matter how much I wanted to. I couldn’t put you in that position. I couldn’t do that to you.
The shop assistant got a veil and fixed it in your hair. You were picturesque. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I didn’t want to take my eyes off you. The three of us started crying again.
“They grow up so fast,” Monica said, mostly to me but for your benefit. You let out a watery laugh as you disappeared back into the fitting room. I nodded, still sniffling. This was pathetic.
Adam called me twice on the way home. We were supposed to see a movie in half an hour, and I wasn’t home yet. Your dress fitting ran a little over schedule. I didn’t pick up, but texted him that I was on my way home, and sent my profuse apologies. I didn’t really care if I missed my date with him. I wanted to spend more time with you.
He met us outside the front door of the manor. You greeted him with a raised eyebrow, and a confused look sent in my direction. I kept my gaze away from you, my heart thumping in my throat.
“Ready to go, babe?” he asked, taking my hand on his way over to his car. I stumbled forward with him, my feet dragging against the ground. He’d never called me babe before. I think it was because you were there. He wanted to get a rise out of you. It worked.
You whipped around to watch us leave. “ Babe ?” you demanded, your eyebrows meeting and your jaw set. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you were jealous. “Are you dating him?”
I froze. I kept my back turned to you, my fingers still entwined with Adam’s. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow me whole. Adam spoke for me. I’m still not sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
“Yeah, she is. And we’re going to be late for our movie. We need to go.”
“You barely know him.”
“Neither do you!” I didn’t turn around. You didn’t respond. You didn’t want me to go with him. That was half the reason I did.
Your eyes never left mine as we drove to the airport. You’d been interrogating me for over an hour before you let up. I wasn’t going to tell you where we were going. Monica had made me swear not to tell you. Half the fun was in the surprise, she said. She didn’t care that you hate surprises. Your bachelorette party had to be perfect.
“Where are we going?” you asked a final time. You pushed my shoulder, pretending to pout. “Come on, Kirby. Tell me where we’re going! I’m pretty sure this counts as kidnapping.”
“We’re going to your bachelorette party,” I said for what must have been the tenth time. “That’s all Monica is letting me say.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t tell. I’m very good at pretending to be shocked.”
I almost gave in to you. I wanted to please you, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I wanted to give in to you, but I didn’t. I drew a line across my lips, locked them, and mimed throwing away the key. You pulled a stupid face in response. I shook my head at your petulant expression and stifled a laugh. You were acting like the old you. The you I missed. I savoured it. I knew this wouldn’t last.
“Fine. But, I’ll hold this against you forever, Anders.”
I shrugged. I wouldn’t doubt it for a second that you would.
Once we got to the airport, you asked every person possible where we were going. All of them gave you the same answer. You’ll have to ask Ms. Colby.
Ms. Colby was already on the plane waiting for us, draped over one couch with a drink in her hand. Sam sat on another, filming an Instagram story. You rolled your eyes at them and sat down next to her, already complaining about me kidnapping you. She laughed at you and told you she wasn’t going to tell you our destination until we got there. You pouted further.
Our flight was six hours long, so you had plenty of time to knock back some Southsides. They calmed your nerves, so no one said anything when you drank three within the first hour and a half. It was fine, you weren’t even tipsy.
“Can I tell you a secret?” you asked me, your fourth drink sloshing around in your hand. You sat too close to me, our legs touching.
“What are you talking about, Fallon?” I asked, trying to make room between us. You only scooted closer.
You raised your lips to my ear. “I don’t think I want to marry Liam.”
I choked on air. That glimmer of hope made a reappearance, erupting in my stomach with butterflies.
“What?”
Sam looked up from his phone and stared at us for a few seconds. You stared back at him until he lost interest. You turned back to me and sighed.
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me that night in La Mirage after me and him had that fight. I don’t think he’s worth giving up the family I’ve always wanted.” You kept your face close to mine, your breath tickling my cheek.
I swallowed hard, my mouth bone dry, and nodded. “You don’t have to marry him if you don’t want the same things for the future. No matter how much you love each other, one of you will always be unhappy.”
“I know. But I don’t know if I could find someone who loves me the way Liam does.”
I could. “Yes, you could. Of course, you could. You’d find someone in no time.”
You moved your gaze out the window and kept it there for a moment before draining your glass. “I’m going to the bar. Do you want anything?”
That was the end of that conversation, then. I shook my head. You didn’t mention not wanting to marry Liam again. I never brought it up again. In fact, no one mentioned him again that weekend. I’ve realised we do this a lot. We never resolve anything. And, this wouldn’t be any different.
You had fun on your bachelorette weekend despite the surprise. At least I think you did. To be honest, I don’t remember much of it. But, the pictures look fun. I was just glad I was able to spend time with you without the mention of Liam.
Your wedding day came too quickly. I almost hoped it would never come after your momentary lapse of judgment on the way to the bachelorette party. But, it did, and I found myself standing outside your hotel suite with breakfast and coffee too soon for my liking.
Cristal opened the door, her hair in curlers and wearing a pair of monogrammed silk pyjamas. She took one of the cups of coffee from the holder and stepped back to let me in without any sort of greeting. I passed her a croissant and walked further into the room. Your mother lay across the bed wearing a neon pink clay mask and reading a shitty paperback romance. Exactly what I should have expected from her on your wedding day.
“Kirby, you’re here!” you exclaimed as you left the bathroom. “Thank god! These two are driving me crazy!” You pulled me into the living area by the elbow, grumbling complaints. I didn’t hear one of them.
We had four hours before the ceremony started. We had a maximum of twelve minutes before the makeup and hair people arrived and we had to get ready. I gave you your breakfast with a soft smile and sat down next to you on one of the plush sofas.
“Are you excited?” I asked. It was a stupid question. Of course you were excited, but I felt dumb sitting there saying nothing.
“I’ve never been more excited,” you said, clasping your hands together. I’d never seen you look so genuinely happy. My heart skipped a beat, and I leaned forward and hugged you. You wrapped your arms around me and put your chin on my shoulder. “I’m glad we got over our problems from when we were kids. I’m so happy you’re here.”
“So am I. And, I’m so happy for you.” I almost meant it.
I walked down the aisle with one of Liam’s college friends. Adam winked at me as we passed him. My stomach tied itself in tight knots and my heart beat madly against my ribs. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry or vomit or both. I wanted to be anywhere but there.
You emerged from the doors at the top of the aisle with Blake as I got in my place on the left of the altar, and the guests stood. Every inch of my body shook, and I had to dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand to keep myself from crying.
Liam stood at the altar, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes leaking. You beamed back. You waved to each other, the gesture small but precious. When you reached him, you handed your bouquet to Monica before embracing him. You held each other like you provided one another’s oxygen. I couldn’t breathe.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Liam Ridley and Fallon Morell Carrington,” the officiant said. I zoned out.
My hatred of Liam is almost unfounded. I’d only met him a handful of times when you got engaged. But, in my defense, they weren’t exactly positive. Our first introduction was in Idaho where we temporarily ruined his then-girlfriend’s life. The time after that was at Femperial. You still hated each other, and you were suddenly his boss. I’d been aware of him before, but he was your ex. He wasn’t someone I thought I should concern myself with. And then he was someone I’d be more concerned with than I should have. He’s a nice guy, really. Other than him being your husband, I have no reason to dislike him. Which is kind of infuriating. It would be so much easier to be jealous if he was an asshole. But he’s not, and he’s good for you. I just wish he wasn’t.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Liam did just as he was told. I clapped with everyone else. Like I was supposed to. I cried with everyone else. Not for the reason I was supposed to. My heart beat for you, but yours beat for him.
I hadn’t seen you since the wedding. Between your honeymoon and my trip home to see family, our paths hadn’t crossed. I liked to pretend it was unintentional. Like I hadn’t made myself unavailable so I couldn’t see you. Plus, you’d moved out of the manor. It wasn’t like I was seeing you at breakfast every morning anymore. You weaselled your way in, anyway. You knew I could never say no to you.
You hugged me in greeting, holding me too tight for a second too long. I didn’t complain. I hadn’t seen you in a month. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes, and you jumped at anything even remotely sudden. I knew something was wrong before you said a word.
“I’m pregnant,” you said, your voice on the edge of hoarse. We didn't catch up first. You dove right in. You couldn’t hold it in any longer.
It was an accident. You hadn’t planned to have children with Liam - ever. That changed rather quickly. I didn’t know how to react at first. You hadn’t made it clear if you were excited or not. Your face was neutral, as though you were telling me you had a head cold.
“How’s Liam taking it?” I asked. I didn’t care how Liam felt about it. It just felt like the easiest question to ask. Asking you what you were going to do seemed too big.
“I haven’t told him yet. I don’t know how to tell him.” Of course, you hadn’t told him. “He’s going to freak out. And he’s on a writing retreat in Upstate New York. I can’t tell him over the phone.”
“How are you feeling?” That should have probably been my first question. I should have asked about you before I asked about your husband. But, you didn’t seem offended.
We sat in your new house, perfectly decorated and immaculately clean. It wasn’t the one you had wanted - the one you’d spy on when you were little. But, it was only a few streets over and it was just as decadent. It was my first time there. I hadn’t put off coming long enough. The massive photograph of you and Liam on your wedding day hanging above the fireplace still hurt a little when I stared at it from the corner of my eye.
You shrugged, but blatant panic etched itself all over your face. “I’m really conflicted,” you said, resting your left hand on your stomach. Your maternal instincts had already kicked in. “As much as I want this, Liam doesn’t. And I told him we wouldn’t have children if he didn’t want them.”
I swallowed my I told you so and tutted sympathetically, placing a hand on your arm. You bowed your head and stared at the floor, your foot tapping against the hardwood. You didn’t cry, but I knew you wanted to. I moved my hand from your arm to your shoulder blade, rubbing circles on your back. I wanted to cry, too. Not for the reason I should have, though. You were slipping farther and farther from me, and I could do nothing about it. We took a break from our daily calls at seven o’clock while you were on honeymoon, to let you have some privacy. But, we never picked them up again. You didn’t call me. I didn’t call you. So, we didn’t talk.
“You’ll be fine,” I said, managing to sound confident when I felt anything but confident about my statement. I didn’t know how Liam would react. But you needed me to tell you that, so I did. “Don’t worry about it. Right now, you need to relax. You don’t even need to think about it until he gets back. You’ll be fine.”
“It’s all I’ve thought about since I took the test. I can’t not think about it.”
I know what you mean, I thought but didn’t say. “You just need to distract yourself,” I said but didn’t think.
You raised your head again and looked at me as though I had seven heads. You paused for a second before leaning into me, your head on my shoulder. I held my breath for a moment, waiting for you to recoil into yourself and put a few feet between us. You didn’t.
“Can you be my distraction for now?” you asked, looking up at me. I felt your gaze on my jaw, but I kept my eyes on the wedding photo.
“Yeah, sure. What do you want to do?”
We watched Bravo that afternoon, not changing the channel once. You liked trashy reality television when you were upset. I wasn’t going to deny you that. We didn’t talk about your pregnancy. We barely talked at all. You lay with your head in my lap, covered in a blanket. I sat bolt upright, one hand on your shoulder and the other on the arm of the couch. We ordered Chinese takeout, and I left at ten o’clock. You needed your rest, and I needed to go home and cry.
I broke up with Adam that night when I got home. He knew it was coming. I think he knew I was in love with you, too. He didn’t mention it, and neither did I. As much as it would repulse you to believe, your brother’s heart really is in the right place. Even if he has a funny way of showing it. It wasn’t fair to string him along like that. It wasn’t his fault I couldn’t get over a stupid crush I’ve been harbouring since I was twelve. It’s not your fault, either. But, you’re Fallon Carrington. It’s not like you’re easy to get over.
You were ready to push when I arrived at the hospital. Liam met me at the entrance of the ward and pulled me into your room. You’d made strict instructions for me to be in the room with you when you gave birth. You hadn’t informed me of this beforehand. I didn’t protest, though. I followed him without question and stood next to you, taking your hand.
“I’m so proud of you,” I said, patting a stray hair down.
“Why? This is-” you paused, doubling over with a contraction. Liam helped you breathe through it and you sat up straight again. “This is the most natural thing in the world.”
I shrugged. “Just let me compliment you, Fallon.”
You started pushing on the next contraction. And forty minutes later your son, Gabriel Steven Ridley was born at ten past one in the afternoon. A healthy seven pounds eight ounces. He was perfect. His eyes were newborn blue, and he had a tuft of inky black hair. You let me hold him after his first feed, and I never wanted to put him down.
“Kirby, can we ask you something?” Liam asked, sitting on the edge of your bed.
I reluctantly ripped my eyes from Gabriel and looked at your husband, knitting my brows together.
“How would you like to be his godmother?” you asked softly, your eyes on your son and not me. I didn’t blame you.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Me? I would never have expected you to ask me.
“What about Monica?” I asked, stumbling over my words. I looked back down at Gabriel and kissed his head.
“She can do it for the next one,” Liam said.
Tears pricked the back of my eyes and I let out a shaky laugh. “Yes, I’d love to. Thank you.”
I realise you already know most of this. You were there when you called me and when you got married and when you gave birth. If I’m honest, I don’t know why I wrote this. I just needed to get my feelings out, I guess. But, I will never give this to you. You will never know. You can’t ever know. Unless you’ve already figured it out. It wouldn't surprise me. I doubt I’ve been subtle. You know how bad I am at lying. If you do know already, thank you for never mentioning it or being weird about it. I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. You’re my best friend.
Anyway, I know that you love Liam, and you’ve got a son with him now. I’m not going to try to come between that. I’m just glad I get to call you my best friend. I love you, Fallon.
-Kirby.