Page 51 of Betting on the Best Friend
Our food arrives, and she answers once the runner leaves.
“No, I don’t think so,” she says. “But tell me again why you don’t confess?”
“Aren’t you bored yet?”
“Glad to have something to think about besides the wreckage of my own love life.” Her tone is dry but there’s sadness in her eyes.
“I’d like to hear your story.”
She shakes her head. “I’m so sick of living it that I don’t want to talk about it. It’s fine. Let me revel in your problems so I can ignore mine.”
I give a small laugh. “How do you keep making me feel like I’m doing you a favor when you are the real hero here?”
“Believe me, this is good for me. So we were about to go deep on why you don’t have a talk with Ruby.”
“You mean ruin the friendship?” I ask, referencing the most-played song on my “Gems” list the last two weeks.
“ItisMiss Taylor’s whole point in that song. Confess or regret.”
“Ruby calls herself a serial monogamist. One long-term relationship after the next with almost no downtime in between. She’s been like that since high school.”
“Daddy issues?” Sydney asks.
“The opposite.”
“Mommy issues?”
“No, I mean that she has a good relationship with both of her parents. She has four older brothers. They’re all tight. I’ve been around them a lot, and her parents have the kind of marriage I think most people want when they think about marriage. Being in a relationship is comfortable for Ruby. She likes having someone to fuss over and do things with. That’s what stability and connection look like to her.”
“That sounds healthy, though. What am I missing?”
“She doesn’t do alone time. She was in a relationship with her ex for five years because being with the wrong person was more comfortable for her than not having a boyfriend.”
“She told you this?”
“More or less.”
“What did you tell me before? You think she’ll pick you because you’re there?”
“Yeah. Autopilot.”
She takes a bite of her salad, considering all this. “People say that the most successful relationships are built on friendships. Wouldn’t that apply here?”
“That’s great, but I want so much more than that.”
Sydney takes a sip of her iced tea and grins. “Fireworks?”
I make an explosion gesture with my hands.
Her smile dims. “You can get burned. Chemistry isn’t everything.”
“I have got to hear your tale of woe,” I say.
“You really don’t. Call me Ophelia, because you’ve heard it all before. Let’s stick with your story. As far as chemistry, wouldn’t you know if you have it?”
“I do know. We do have it. I don’t know if she recognizes it for what it is.”
“What are you waiting for her to do or say so you know she loves you? That’s what we’re talking about, isn’t it? Love?”
