Page 17 of Next to Everything We Wanted
“You mean it’sonlybeen twelve days. It’s still fresh.”
I took a hard bite of my pancake, nearly biting my tongue. “Everything will be better now. Sure, things will be awkward for a while, but . . . it wasn’t going to work. It does less harm just being friends and loving each other in that way.”
My mind shifted back to all those hard nights. We both wanted commitment at different levels. While Celeste was loud and enthusiastic about our relationship, I liked to keep things close to the chest. While she’d wanted to show off our love in public, I’d longed for soft moments when we were alone. She’d wanted to take an elevator, but I’d wanted to take the stairs one step at a time.
It’s safe to say we’d never made it to the top together.
As upsetting as it was, she’d loved me more than I’d loved her. We weren’t being fair to each other, both wanting different things at different paces. It didn’t take me long to get over the breakup, but I knew she was having a harder time letting go of me. It hurt to know that she was hurting.
“And why do you believe that?” Phoenix asked.
I took a few more bites of my pancakes, not sure how to answer. Celeste and I had formally announced our breakup in front of guys the evening it happened. Since then, I’d barely said a word about it. What could I possibly say?
Phoenix frowned after a few moments of silence. “Fine, then. How are things with Ellis?”
“We haven’t talked much.” Ellis and I weren’t really close. He was the most relaxed member of the band, always chill in the toughest situations. He was also the youngest, freshly eighteen and still living with his parents. I just didn’t relate to him as much as I did with my other bandmates, though I sometimes felt bad about it.
“And why is that?” Phoenix asked.
I shrugged. “Differences.”
He wrote more things in his notebook. “Finally, how are things with Forrest?”
I opened my mouth, ready to speak.
“And I want you to be completely honest.”
“Honest about what?” Forrest rubbed his eyes. “Gosh, what time is it?”
“Ten thirty-three,” Phoenix said. “Your breakfast is on the table.”
“Thank you.” Forrest yawned as he sat down. The dude hated waking up before noon—or waking up in general. Get him up at six in the morning, and he’d shove a pillow down your throat before dozing off in his puddle of drool again.
“I’m not sure how I feel about that,” I said. “Not that I ever do.”
“Me neither,” Phoenix said. “Complex personality.”
“Real friends don’t talk about each other behind their backs,” Forrest muttered from the table. “Especially those who split rent.”
“We’re saying good things,” I promised. “Like that we love you, even when you’re grumpy as hell in the mornings.”
“I thought he was grumpy as hell all the time,” Phoenix said.
“We still love him.” I made a kissy face at Forrest.
Forrest flipped Phoenix off and rolled his eyes at me.
“I do love him,” I whispered to Phoenix.
“Me too.” Phoenix smiled. “Okay, anything else on your mind?”
“Not really. Other than nature.”
“Perfect. I have my diagnosis.”
I inched toward the piano, my eyes big. “What is it? Is it big?”
“You have . . .”
