Page 41 of Not Your Basic Love Story

Miranda sighed. “Then talk to him!”

“You said to wait and see if he made the first move!”

“You don’t have time for that. You’re almost thirty!”

I had to laugh. “You are the absolute worst advice giver ever.”

She shrugged. “I know you’re just friends with me for my looks.” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. I rolled mine with a grin and turned back to face the TV.

My phone lit up with a text. I looked down, expecting Dev, and did a double-take.

“Holy shit,” I muttered.

“What?” Miranda asked, mouth full of chips.

“Look.” I showed her the phone.

“Holy shit!” She said, spraying crumbs.

“I know! What the fuck?”

“What the fuck!”

It was Graham.

“What does it say?” She said, edging closer to me.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. My palms were suddenly so sweaty I could barely grip my phone. Setting my wine glass down, I took a deep breath and unlocked it.

‘hey.’

That was it. Just, ‘hey.’

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Miranda said, suddenly furious. “What an asshole, messaging you out of nowhere. Why isn’t his number blocked? Here, give it to me.” She reached for my phone, but I pulled it away.

“No, wait! Don’t do anything.”

She looked at me, eyes wide and mouth agape. “You’re not thinking of messaging him back, are you?”

“I don’t know! He hasn’t talked to me since… since he left.” My head swam with confusion as the chips began working their way back up my throat.

“He cheated on you. There’s no coming back from that.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, but, I mean, I kind of get why—”

“Nuh-uh. Don’t even go there, girl. Don’t make excuses for him. You can do so much better. Becky, for the love of all things holy, do not message him back. Block him. Delete the text,” she implored.

“What if it’s a sign?” I whispered.

“You don’t believe in signs!”

That was true. “Fine. Fine! You’re right. Here, see?” I deleted the text and then blocked his number. Admittedly, it did feel good. I don’t know why I hadn’t done it earlier. I suppose I’d been secretly hoping he’d come to his senses, realize he’d made a terrible mistake, and spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to me. Once Dev and I started dating, I’d thought of him less and less. Until now.

Miranda relaxed back on the couch and took a big gulp of wine. “What an asshole,” she muttered. Then, mocking his voice, “‘Hey.’ Who says that? Not, ‘I’m sorry for being an asshole, Becky. I’m sorry for cheating on you. I’m sorry for taking you for granted. I’m sorry for wasting a year and a half of your life.’”

“Geez, I think you’re madder at him than I am,” I said, nudging her with my foot before reaching for my glass.

“Damn right I am. Nobody treats my bestie like that!” We clinked glasses. She was going to be a fierce mama bear someday.

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