Page 102 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
I move slow and set the coffee down on the bench beside me. My hand is slick and steady at once.
“That’s none of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t,” Nick snaps, voice rising enough that a woman walking her dog across the street glances over, her brow furrowed. “I was with her foryears.I know her better than any of you.”
My jaw tightens.
No, you don’t, I think.You think you know her because she made herself small for you. Because she gave more than she got. Because she bent until she nearly broke trying to fit into the version of love you offered.
But I say nothing.
The sun glints off the windows of the coffee shop behind him, reflecting his silhouette in fractured panes of glass. His shadow stretches long across the sidewalk, almost reaching me.
There’s the steady churn of traffic in the distance, the squeak of a rusted bicycle wheel as someone coasts by behind us, oblivious to the way the world is narrowing into this confrontation.
Nick steps closer. Close enough that I catch the faint scent of his cologne. It’s sharp and musky.
There’s something in his expression now. Rage, yes, but something almost desperate too. A flicker of insecurity beneath all that bravado.
“People are talking,” he says tightly. “Rumors are spreading all over town.” His mouth twists into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You think you can all just play house with her and no one’s gonna notice?”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.
Stay calm. Be the level-headed one.
Something twists in my gut at the way he says it. Like what we’re doing is something dirty. Like Maya’s some careless girl making a mess of her life and we’re just idiots enabling it.
Like love—real love—can only look the wayhewants it to.
“You all screwing her, or what? That the deal now?”
The words hit like a slap. Audible. Ugly. Mean.
The kind of sentence that doesn’t just insult—it tries todiminishher.
My hands curl into fists before I even register it. My shoulders coil with the effort it takes not to react, not to swing and let him win.
I take one step forward, closing the distance between us so he has to tip his chin slightly to meet my eyes. When I speak, my voice is cold.
“You don’t get to talk about her like that.”
Nick scoffs, stepping back half a pace but not retreating.
“Iknewit. I knew something was off the second I saw you with her at the wedding. The way you all looked at her—like she was some goddamn prize.”
That’s when I snap.
I don’t raise my voice. I don’t shove him, but the words come out like a shot, sharp and sure in the quiet afternoon.
“Weloveher.”
The words hang between us like a thunderclap.
Nick freezes. His eyes flicker, mouth parting slightly, like he didn’t expect that. Like he was ready for excuses, or guilt, or denial. Not a heartfelt confession.
I press on, breath rushing now, the words tearing out of me like they’ve been clawing to get free for months.
“All three of us. Me, Jake, Ethan. We love her. We live together. We take care of her. We support her. We make her laugh when she’s had a hard day, and we sit with her when she cries for no reason, and we never, ever make her feel like she’s too much or not enough.”
