Page 75 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

“What’s going on?” she says. It’s not a casual greeting so much as an interrogation. Before I can step out of the way, she’s already inside my apartment.

“Um, hi,” I say.

“Nope. You had your chance to say hi during any one of the hundred text messages and phone calls that you’ve ignored from me this week. The only reason I haven’t shown up here sooner is because you happen to work with my husband, who confirmed that you are in fact still alive. And after no less than eight thousand follow-up questions, I also managed to deduce from him that something weird is going on between you and Ryan.”

“Hunter said that?” I ask, surprised that our boss, of all people, figured that out.

“Of course not. You know how he is – he’d rather rub a pissed-off skunk on his face than get involved in other peoples’ relationships. But he did say that Ryan has been avoiding the office all week. Between that and the fact that you’re obviously avoiding my calls, I figured that something must be going on between the two of you.”

Abby has waddled her way into my kitchen as she berates me for ignoring her, which yes, I am guilty of. She pours herself a glass of water, which she quickly abandons in favor of a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream she finds in my freezer. She takes a large bite and stares up at me expectantly.

“We had a fight,” I say slowly.

“About what?”

I cringe even before the words come out. “Another woman.”

Abby’s eyes grow comically large as she sets down her spoon and abandons the ice cream. “Areyouinto another woman?”

“What?! No, of course not.”

“Well, then there must be a mistake because I’ve seen the way Ryan looks at you and heard the way he talks about you, and I can’t imagine that he’s even glanced in the direction of anyone else since you two have been together.”

Abby’s words make me crumble a little. The tiny bit of resolve I’ve mustered since the breakup collapses under my feet, making my stomach tilt and my heart tumble. And, because apparently this is who I am now – I start crying. My eyes burn as the fresh tears trace the path of all the old ones. A familiar lump lodges in my throat.

Abby rushes to my side, taking my elbow as she directs me to the sofa. Our butts hit the cushion at the same time while Abby circles her arms around my shoulders to pull me in.

“I’m sorry,” she says against my hair, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Normally, you hate all this emotional stuff, so I was just trying to cut to the chase. I didn’t realize it was this bad.”

I straighten up slightly, the set of my shoulders subtly breaking Abby’s hold on me. Her words ring in my ears while their meaning twists and turns in my brain. They intertwine with Ryan’s parting words to me during our fight, leaving an unpleasant taste in my mouth.

“I don’t hate the emotional stuff,” I spit out defensively.

Luckily, Abby takes it in stride and gives me a patient smile before she replies. I can tell she’s choosing her next words carefully.

“I know,” she says after a minute. “I’m just saying that you’re stronger than most people when it comes to your emotions. You had to cope with a lot more during your childhood than most people have to deal with over the course of their entire lives. And even though that’s completely unfair, it also made you the most emotionally intelligent person I’ve ever met.”

A ghost of a laugh cuts through my sniffles, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“You thinkthisis what emotional intelligence looks like?” I ask.

“There’s nothing wrong with crying,” she says, “and there’s also nothing wrong with not crying. You show your emotions less than most people because you’ve learned to deal with them on your own. You don’t need validation about what you’re feeling from anyone else. Most of the time…”

It takes a lot of effort for Abby to reach over her baby bump and pluck the last tissue out of the box on the coffee table. Since the breakup, I’ve been keeping my place well-stocked with tissues and ice cream, but both are running dangerously low. I thought I would be over it by now.

Okay, maybe notover it, but definitely crying less about it.

“And what if I’m second-guessing myself and my emotions now?” I ask as Abby hands me the tissue.

She ponders this for a moment before replying. “Then maybe it’s worth giving a second thought.”

I chew my lip, wondering if she’s right.

“Who was this other woman anyway? Do you need me to kick Ryan’s ass? I could probably take him since he can’t fight back against a pregnant woman.”

I have no doubt that Abby could take him, pregnant or not. The woman survived a literal bullet not so long ago. She may be way smaller than he is, but Abby has a lot of fight in her.

“Bonnie,” I say. “Do you know her?”

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