He wants to fix everything for me. I’m sure he’d want to put together my broken mind and my broken heart, if he only knew. He can’t understand it’s an impossible task.
“If you insist on doing it for me, it means you don’t believe I’m capable,” I almost sneer.
“Your priorities are pretty screwy. There’s more to a house than just the kitchen.”
I huff and open one of the boxes I brought with me. Well, two of them. We dropped off the other one at Rys and Caspian’s place. I love all of his five brothers, but Caspian and Huxley might be my favorites. Fern and Cory are my friends, so I don’t have favorites when it comes to his sisters.
“Please don’t start. I might just move into an industrial kitchen so you’ll stop nagging me. What’s next?”
“You should eat less chocolate and more broccoli.”
I glare at him. “If my parents were alive, they wouldn’t like you.”
“They would love me. More so if they knew I was watching over you.”
But for how long? It’ll only be until he leaves. Any day now, he’s going to get an acceptance letter where he’ll be swept away by some incredible hospital offering him his dream fellowship. He’ll be gone for four years. Heath will find an uptight doctor like him and fall madly in love.
At first, he’ll forget our video calls. Then, he’ll stop texting me daily. That’ll just be the beginning. In no time, we’ll become strangers, and this is exactly why we should call it quits now.
Heath shakes his head. “Why are we having a bad day?”
“It was just a bad date,” I growl. “We didn’t even get to have a date.”
He tsks. “You’re a terrible liar.”
I laugh because he’s wrong. Or maybe I laugh because if not, I’ll start to cry. Things are getting too real. Life is beginning to suck again and I’m about to lose my best friend. I should’ve known, it was bound to happen.
In my experience, people leave or never stay.
What will become of us when he leaves?
Is this it? Is this the end of who we were?
Chapter Three
Heath
After seventeen years of friendship, I can say without a doubt I know Atzi’s moods—all of them.
I can even tell when she’s laughing on the outside but crying on the inside. Today she’s just like Eeyore. Depressed and tired. Usually, I can get her out of the funk, but so far, I haven’t had any luck.
Does it have to do with the asshole she was dating? Is there something else bothering her she hasn’t mentioned at all?
I can’t think of anything but her failed date. Yet, I know those things don’t make her sad. Atzi doesn’t mope after a breakup. She doesn’t care much when people leave and move away. Well, that’s what she says, but deep down, I think it hurts her feelings. She just fakes it until the pain is over.
So, then, what could be happening with her?
I’m so desperate to figure out what the problem is and fix it, I’m letting her eat ice cream and cupcakes on my couch. I’m not a neat freak per se, but chocolate doesn’t go well with the white fabric. I could switch my furniture for something more practical, but then she’ll complain that the couches aren’t comfortable.
It’s a balance to keep Atzi happy, and I juggle every day to achieve it.
My next move is to hand her the TV remote. “Here, you can stream whatever your heart desires.” I just pray it’s not a medical drama. I swear she only watches them when I’m around.
She smiles. “Today, you might be my favorite person.”
“I am your favorite person.” I wink and smirk.
“Don’t be cocky, Spearman. It doesn’t look good on you.”
“But I. Am. Your. Favorite.”
“Soleil, Alyth, and Elijah are my favorites in the entire world,” she mentions my nieces and nephew, and then she pouts.
Atzi adores them. She loves babies more than she loves chocolate.
We babysit for my siblings often. When Rys has her baby, Atzi will be the first one in the hospital, claiming to be the favorite aunt. Maybe that’s it. She’s almost twenty-nine and still single. Not that there’s a problem with being single, but some men and women feel like they have to reach all their milestones. Atzi is one of them. She might be disorganized, but she likes to make plans and dreams.
Unfortunately, one of those includes a husband and children.
Why do I say unfortunately?
Because I don’t plan on marrying or having a family.
I adore Atzi. She’s probably the only woman I’ll ever love. And if we didn’t want different things, I would tell her how I feel. But I don’t fit in to her mold. I don’t plan to have children. I’m good just being the uncle.
Atzi and my feelings are part of the reason why I’m packing my things and leaving for another state to do my fellowship.
None of my siblings know I didn’t apply for any hospital on this side of the Rocky Mountains. I just need some distance between me and Atzi so I can forget she owns my heart.
Will I miss my family? Yes, but I’ll be back once I’ve fallen out of love with my best friend. While I can, I’ll enjoy our last months together. Try to cheer her up while I’m around.
“I heard Fern and Elliot are spending the weekend in Santa Cruz. We could surf while we’re there,” I offer. “In the meantime, you can tell me what happened with Le’asshole.”
Atzi closes her eyes. “He went to my shop to pick up his son’s cake—wife and child came along.”
“Tinder fucker?” I almost bark.
“Yep,” she sighs. “My store. He came inside Decadent Dreams pretending to be the best husband and father.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
She sighs. “I’m not going to tell him off in front of his child. Though, I wanted to bring up his Tinder profile so his wife could see it. When he paid, I whispered, ‘Delete my number and forget about date number seven.’”
Atzi has timelines for everything, including dating. I’m all for supporting my best friend, but I try to avoid her dating life. I’m not a masochist. Of course, there are exceptions. Like when she’s on Tinder searching for the next asshole who’ll try to break her heart. Someone has to stop her from swiping right when she matches with an idiot.
And after a breakup, I’m here for her.
Regretfully I have to ask, “Remind me what happens on number seven?”
“Anal, of course.” She grins.
I choke on my saliva. “Seriously, Atzi? I almost died—choked on my own saliva doesn’t sound heroic.”
She’s laughing uncontrollably and I’m glad I was able to get her out of her funk. When she calms, she says, “It’s your own fault.”
“How so?”
“Well, if you didn’t tune me out when I talk, you’d know that seven is the magical date when I finally tell the guy I’m dating about my sad childhood, and if they react well, we continue. Men don’t handle an ‘orphan who almost died in a car accident and lost her only sister’ story well.”
And stupidly, I have to ask, “So when do you have sex?”