Lunch is mildly awkward, with Faye and Beckett carrying the conversation. Preston occasionally chimes in, and Cohen keeps the chat on safe topics.
Anna and Brooks are silent. I’m so uncomfortable, I can barely eat. There’s a phantom ache in my chest. A pull in my abdomen. A nervous energy that wraps around my fingers and pinches between my shoulder blades. It’s strange to feel separate from the group I considered family for many years.
Luckily, as Cohen and Beckett clear the table, Faye gestures to the booze. “Drinks?”
“Fuck, please,” Preston says, moving to grab a bottle of tequila and a bottle of gin. “Pick your poison, friends.”
“Um, I don’t know,” Anna says nervously, glancing at me. “Maybe we should talk first?”
“Trust me, talking will be easier with some alcohol in our systems,” Preston points out.
“Agreed,” I add, standing and moving toward Preston. “Margaritas?”
“Done.” He winks at me.
We move to the kitchen island and work in unison, squeezing limes and salting glass rims, to whip up a batch of margaritas. At the table, Faye pulls out a pack of Uno cards. I appreciate my friends trying to make this interaction normal, but the sooner I talk to Anna and Brooks, the better this trip will be.
It’s going to be the toughest night, the most painful conversation. But once it’s in my rearview mirror, I can enjoy the remainder of the trip with my friends and Cohen.
My eyes dart to Cohen, chatting amicably with Beck as he loads the dishwasher. God, I don’t deserve him. With his backup and a strong margarita, I’m ready to take on Anna and Brooks and put the shit between us to rest.
The group assembles around the table as we play a round of Uno. Beckett wins and takes a long pull of his margarita. “We ready to hash it out?” he asks, glancing around the table.
Anna sighs and straightens in her chair. “Raia, I’m sorry.”
Underneath the table, Cohen laces my hand with his. He gives a little squeeze for reassurance. I grip his fingers in return. My stomach is coiled, and I feel nauseous. A chill washes over my limbs, plunging me back to the awful moment when I learned that Brooks and Anna were dating. To seeing the picture Anna posted on social media that flipped my world upside down. To the pain of her betrayal, on top of the hurt of Brooks’s rejection.
“You blindsided me,” I tell Anna. My tone is clipped. My eyes dart to Brooks who is watching me curiously, his expression blank. How have I never noticed, until now, how inexpressive he is? How flat and aloof he can be? His ability to selectively engage or shut down another person is hurtful.
I used to think I was special. That I was the one person who could get through to Brooks and relate to him. That I earned his smiles and his laughter when he met everyone else with flat eyes and a simple smirk.
Now, that position is reserved for Anna.
A part of it aches but another part realizes, truly recognizes, that I’m better off. That I want to be with the guy who is affable and funny, entertaining and charismatic. I want to be with a Cohen.
Brooks clears his throat and I realize the group is waiting for me to continue. Cohen doesn’t move a muscle, giving me time to gather my thoughts and bolster my confidence.
We got this. I got you.
“You both hurt me,” I continue. “Well, you all did.” I look around the table and note the understanding in Faye’s expression as well as the surprise in Beckett’s. “All I kept thinking is everyone knew, and no one told me. That Anna hid her feelings from Brooks and vice versa. Were you hooking up behind my back?”
“Never!” Anna looks truly horrified.
“Or thinking about it?” I press, glancing at Brooks. “Did you feel sorry for me? Pity me?” My gaze swings around the group.
“We would never do that, Rai.” Preston’s voice is low. I know he means it. Too many years being bullied as the weird outcast gave him a surprising sympathetic streak most don’t realize he possesses.
I shrug. “These are the thoughts I battled this summer. You broke up with me before a huge game,” I tell Brooks. “And you knew he was going to do it!” I accuse Anna.
She blushes and averts her gaze, not bothering to refute my statement. The concern she showed on the soccer field that day feels empty now. Superficial.
“I never meant to hurt you,” Brooks finally says. “Not emotionally and definitely not… Raia, I was horrified when you got injured in that game.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, knowing he’s being truthful. “So, when did it start?” I gesture between them.
“I swear, nothing happened until after you guys broke up,” Anna explains. “We’ve been friends for so long. Brooks reached out and…” She shrugs.
“So, you rebounded with my cousin?” I narrow my eyes at Brooks.
Anna sucks in a breath, taken aback by my accusation.
Brooks looks at me, his expression carefully blank. “It’s not a rebound, Rai. Anna and I have feelings for each other. Real feelings.”
Cohen snorts. I lift a skeptical eyebrow. The tension hovering over the table tightens.
“We didn’t know anything,” Beckett promises. “I was just as surprised as you.”
“I had a feeling,” Faye admits. “But I didn’t know anything, and I was hoping that summer would… I don’t know, fix shit. I was surprised too when Brooks asked Anna out.”
Cohen moves closer to me and drags our joined hands to the top of his thigh. His leg bounces restlessly.
Preston clucks his tongue and shakes his head, disappointed. “Look, this situation is messed up. What you did is pretty fucked up,” he tells Brooks.
Brooks shifts uncomfortably.
“And y’all are fucking family,” he says to Anna, giving another voice to my points. God, I love Pres. “But,” he continues, “we’ve been friends for a long time.”
“Family,” Beckett corrects.
“Family,” Preston agrees. “We gotta find a way to move through this. Even if it’s awkward.”
“Oh, it’s awkward,” Faye agrees, and we laugh lightly. A nervous, uncomfortable tittering among friends who used to share their deepest secrets.
The nausea in my stomach rolls.
“I wish you would have told me the truth,” I say to Anna. “I would have preferred to hear about your dating Brooks from you, not your social media. The fact that you couldn’t be bothered with having the conversation hurt.”
“I was planning on telling you!” Anna swears. “I just, I didn’t know how. I was scared of the fallout between us and our families. About our team. I waited too long and… I’m so sorry I hurt you, Raia. You’re like a sister to me and I hate that I caused this.” She gestures around the table and the tension hovering overhead like a raincloud. Tears coat her eyes, and she blinks rapidly to keep them from falling.
“You should’ve reached out before you posted a picture on your socials,” Preston scoffs.
I give him a grateful look, but his gaze is trained on Anna.
“You’re right,” she sniffs. “I should have.”
“I’m sorry too, Rai,” Brooks says, staring right at me. “My timing was shitty, and I should have handled the situation better. But I want to ask you something. I want you to be honest.”
Cohen shifts again, leaning forward slightly.
Brooks shakes his head. “I’m asking this in front of our friends, in front of Anna, because I want you to tell me the truth. Don’t spare my feelings.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I mutter.
One side of Brooks’s mouth pulls up. “Were you happy with me? Truly happy? Or did you just feel comfortable? Was our relationship easy and on paper, it made sense?”
Shit. I lean back in my chair and stare at the table. A few months ago, I would have sworn that I was happy and in love with Brooks.
But things are different now. I’m sitting here, with Cohen at my side. Through him and my experience with him, I learned that what Brooks and I shared doesn’t measure up. My fake boyfriend outshines the man I spent a decade dating.
“It was easy, and I was comfortable,” I admit.
Cohen lets out a shaky exhale and his body relaxes. Was he worried? Does he think I’m hung up on Brooks? I’m not.
I squeeze Cohen’s hand in reassurance. In solidarity.
The realization that I truly am over my ex-boyfriend makes me chuckle. “But I didn’t want to admit it,” I continue, “because I still feel betrayed by both of you.”
“You should,” Brooks agrees. “We handled it wrong because we didn’t want to hurt you, Rai.”
“I miss you,” Anna says, one tear rolling down her cheek. She swipes it away and sniffles. “I miss you so much. Part of me hates myself for what I put you through and the other part is so happy because Brooks makes me happy, and I don’t know how to reconcile that.” She winces. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was an insensitive and fucked-up thing to say.”
“Ya think?” Preston snorts.
“No, it’s fine. At least it’s honest. We should aim for more honesty in our group.” I look at my cousin. Really look at her and see the girl who’s been my ride or die my entire life. “I miss you, too,” I say truthfully. “But it’s going to take time to…trust this again.” I gesture between us.
She nods. “I understand.”
Beckett leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You guys, this is so healthy. When the fuck did we grow up and become adults who can talk through shit?”
“Uh, thirteen minutes ago,” Faye replies, glancing at her watch.
The table laughs as the tension diffuses. The energy in the room shifts as relief courses through our group.
“Consider the air cleared,” I tell Anna and Brooks.
Preston gives me a surprised look.
I squeeze Cohen’s hand again. “Honestly, if I wasn’t with Cohen, if we weren’t so happy, I probably wouldn’t be this forgiving.” As I say the words, I know they’re true. I moved on from Brooks partly because Cohen showed me something better. “And I don’t want this trip to be awkward. We hardly get to spend time together as a group and I want to enjoy this.”
Anna nods as Brooks tips his chin at me.
“Okay, Rai, slow your roll. You can be an adult, but you don’t have to be so goddamn mature about it,” Beckett jokes.
I chuckle and pick up my margarita. “To the tribe.”
“To our family,” Preston says, following my lead.
“And welcome to Cohen,” Beckett tacks on.
We lift our glasses, clink them together, and down them.
“That was intense,” Cohen whispers as Preston makes another round of margaritas.
“Yeah,” I agree, scrunching my nose. “But annoyingly healthy.”
“I thought you were going to do that, you know, just you and Anna. Not the whole group…”
I shrug. “We’re all ride or die. We’ve been up in each other’s business and on our own, without our parents to police things, for too long.”
Cohen nods. “Makes sense. You have a really special friendship.”
“Yeah,” I agree, glancing at Anna and Brooks who are huddled together on the sofa.
“I’m proud of you, champ. That wasn’t easy and you handled that shit with a lot more grace than I’d be capable of.” Cohen squeezes my thigh.
I glance at him and grin. “It was easier with you here.”
He smiles back. “Always got your back, Rai.”
“I know,” I reply. And I trust that.
Deep down, I know everyone at this table has my back. Even when it hurts.