I don’t pretend to understand some of the ideas Bailey’s dad mentioned. Nor am I going to lie to myself and say I am not afraid of Alex finding out and destroying everything anyway. My faith that this will work isn’t as strong as I would like. But I no longer feel I am waging a war on my own. When I look over my shoulder, I have an entire family looking with me. There is comfort in that, and that is what I cling to.
Bailey came over about two hours into the meeting of minds. She’s in her second year of law school—criminal law, top of her class. Naturally. More than anything I want my friend to assure me. Of everyone in that room today, she’s the one voice I could always count on to shoot straight. Dustin is too blinded by the same fears I have. But things between Bailey and me have never been stretched so thin. Even now, up in my childhood room, a place filled with so many shared memories, she and I feel worlds apart.
We are worlds apart.
She joined me in my room out of obligation. Tommy, Dustin, and my father went to the track to search for some things, and Bailey’s dad went home. We’re all supposed to meet my mother at the base of Fools Mountain for the Santa Hike at twilight, but our spirits are deflated. I’m powering through because Bristol deserves this. And maybe I want to believe in magic for once.
“So do you think I can still squeeze my ass into these jeans?” I pull one of my old favorite pair from the box my mom’s kept in my closet. They have holes ripped in the thighs. I used to draw hearts on my skin underneath.
“Probably,” Bailey says in a half-hearted voice.
I give her a closed smile, stretch the pants out across my waist, and look down. For some reason, everything in my head and in this room catches up to me, and I sob. It’s a quick falter and I suck it in almost as soon as it happens.
“I’m sorry,” I utter, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head.
“It’s fine.” Bailey is purposely cold. She’s been like this with me before, but never for long. When we were younger and I danced with a boy she had a crush on, she gave me the cold shoulder. Rightfully so. And in college, when I somehow scored better than her on our political science exam, she was short with me. That one’s on her. This time is different, and the cold war is longer.
“How long are we going to do this?” I drop the pants and fall to the floor, sitting and staring at my friend who is picking at her nails while sitting on the edge of my bed. She looks about ready to bolt.
“Do what?” She shrugs.
I tilt my head and wait her out, and she finally sighs and falls back on her hands.
“I don’t know. I’ve been avoiding the conflict. I don’t like it. I’m just . . . so angry with you.”
I look up and bat the tears from my lashes, sucking in and nodding.
“I know,” I whisper.
I lower my head and meet her gaze, and seeing her eyes as red and watery as mine somehow satisfies me.
“I’m really sorry, Bailey. I’m sorry I shut you out.” It’s the first time I’ve admitted that to her—to myself, really.
“I would have been there for you. I would have helped. I wouldn’t have pushed.”
A short laugh puffs from my mouth and Bailey rolls her eyes.
“Fine. I might have pushed a little.” She leans her head to the side as we stare at one another and we both reflect crooked smiles.
“I should have trusted you could handle it. I was tired of being your burden, I guess.” I’ve felt like that for the last seven years. Ever since I got together with Dustin, I’ve been Bailey’s mess to clean up. I couldn’t do it anymore.
“You have never been my burden, Hannah. You’re my best friend.”
“Am? Or was?” I hold my breath after putting that question out there.
“Are. You are my best friend. You always will be. Even if I want to bully you and make you feel bad for making me feel bad, you’re still my girl. I even got you a damn dress.”
I perk up at that confession and my friend gives me a wry smile.
“Are the sleeves puffy?” I quirk a brow. Bailey and I always joked that our bridesmaid dresses would out-ugly one another and be as stereotypical and grossly vintage as possible.
“The puffiest,” she says, leaning to her side to pull her phone from her hip pocket. She thumbs through a few photos and turns her screen to face me. I crawl over and take her phone in my hands.
“Is that olive green?” I glance at her over the screen.
She nods.
“It is.”
“And that belt—it’s really that thick and black? And the skirt has a hoop? And the sleeves . . .”
“Like I said, the puffiest.”
I laugh and return my eyes to the picture. As ugly as the dress is, resembling something from an old square dancing video, it’s absolutely perfect. I give her back her phone, but when our hands touch, I hold on until she looks me in the eyes.
“I love it,” I say.
She lifts the side of her mouth and looks to the side.
“I figured.”
Her hands move to embrace mine and we sit in peace for a few seconds.
“I’m really sorry, Bailey. And I know it isn’t fair, but I need you now. I need you more than I ever have.”
My plea hangs between us, and I draw in a slow breath.
“I’m here,” she finally says, and I exhale, feeling one less weight that had been burdening my shoulders fall away with her two simple words.
“Now, about the jeans . . .”
We both laugh and let go, breaking up the hard moment with something near normal for once. I slip off my sweatpants and manage to wriggle my way into my old jeans, albeit with the help of a hair tie to extend the button an inch or so. Bailey helps me sort through my old tops, looking for one that might make me slightly appealing to the father of my child. I have a lot of work to do, as does he, but tonight I simply want him to think I’m beautiful, if even for a single glance.
We settle on a tight long-sleeved black shirt with a low-cut neckline. My boobs are about twice the size they used to be, thanks to childbirth, so I may as well accentuate my attributes. I do happen to have packed a sexy bra. It wasn’t because I had hopes of showing it to anyone, but rather that I had to return some pajamas right before we left Nebraska and the place would only give me store credit. Maybe it was karma looking out for me. Because karma totally plans for a messy-ass reunion with your soulmate where you may happen to need stellar-looking tits.
Paired with my black leather boots and my best blow out, I manage to whip myself into decent shape by the time the boys come barreling through the door. Bristol went to the event early with my mom because she heard there would be candy. My mom may have helped that temptation along so Dustin and I could ride to the trailhead together and alone.
“I’m nervous,” I admit to Bailey as she picks at my hair and spritzes it with something she brought over in her bag of tricks. When did my sheltered best friend become the one swimming in beauty supplies and the best shades of lipstick?
“Don’t be. You’ve had a baby with that man. Kinda not a lot of surprises left,” she jokes.
I shoot her a forced smile, but it falls apart quickly.
“Hannah, you two will get through this.”
I nod, hoping she’s right.