chapter 9
When I got back to Sophie’s, she was still asleep on the couch. I covered her with a blanket and sat down beside her, picking up my phone. There were ten missed calls from Kobe and a new message. Where are you? I’m worried about you.
I deleted the message without replying. Then I opened my contacts and found Lola’s number. I’d never texted her before, never wanted to engage with the person who’d come between us. But tonight I typed out a message: I don’t need your apology. I just need you to stop needing Kobe so much. He deserves to choose, and so do I.
I hesitated for a minute, then hit send.
The next morning, I woke up to the smell of pancakes. Sophie was in the kitchen wearing an apron that said “Bride to Be” in glittery letters, flipping pancakes on the stove.
“You’re up,” she said, grinning. “I made your favorite. Blueberry, extra syrup.”
“Thanks,” I said, sitting down at the table. My phone buzzed with a text from Lola.
I’m sorry. I never meant to come between you two. Kobe’s my best friend, but he’s not mine to keep. I’ll back off.
I stared at the message, unsure how to feel—relief, maybe, or just sadness that it had taken so long for someone to acknowledge what was obvious.
Sophie set a plate of pancakes in front of me. “So,” she said, sitting down across from me, “what’s next?”
I took a bite of pancake, the sweet syrup sticking to my tongue. “I don’t know, honestly. I’m moving out of Kobe’s place for good, that’s for sure. I found an apartment downtown last week. Small, but it’s mine.”