Page 125 of Love Complicated

That means. . . no, it couldn’t. Well, yes, it could. That means Austin lied when he said I was his first because he was seventeen when I lost my virginity to him at fifteen. Brie is one year older than me. Which made her sixteen. . . and I know my math skills aren’t that great, but I can do the numbers on this one.

“Austin had sex with you while I was dating him, didn’t he?”

She nods. One. Simple. Nod.

What the fuck? How could I have been so naïve in all this? Was I that caught up in Austin’s perfect wispy hair and crooked smile that I didn’t see how much of a lying, cheating bastard he was?

Apparently so.

“And it continued, didn’t it?”

Another nod.

“And you remained friends with me because. . . .” My words trail off, and I stare. This is where she fills in the blanks. Or she’s supposed to. Does she?

No. She fucking stares at me like she wants to drop the box on my head and run away.

You know me well enough by now to know what I do next, don’t you?

You fill in the blank then. Watch out for the blood coming from her nose though. Wouldn’t want your shoes to get stained.

I’m just kidding. I didn’t hit her. But I wanted to.

“Nothing I can say to you is going to make this any easier,” she says tearfully. “I know that I’ve lost you for a friend, and I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m sorry too,” I admit. “But not for losing your friendship. I’m sorry you lost mine. I’m sorry I ever trusted you. But thank you.”

“For what?”

“For showing me how to be stronger. If you hadn’t slept with Austin, I wouldn’t have realized how badly I needed out of that relationship.”

You can see the realization on her face, the understanding, the choices she’s made and the premonition that she could be me eight years from now, raising a daughter on her own.

I hand Brie Austin’s boxes, one by one as she loads them into her Mustang, her hood and windows fixed. It still brings a smile to my face thinking of how gratifying it felt taking my frustrations out on her car.

Inside the house, I smile again because there are my boys, curled up on the couch, still in their pajamas, one on each side of Ridge.

They don’t acknowledge my presence in the room. Why would they? They’re watchingThe Walking Dead. I finally see what he was talking about last night. Selfless love. Something he’s showed my boys, and me, since he came back here.

---