Claire reached out and took Astrid’s hand, relieved when Astrid didn’t pull back. “Like what?”
“Like . . .” Astrid sighed. “Like how I felt about Delilah. I mean, really felt when we were growing up. How I wanted her to be my sister, but when she didn’t seem to want the same thing, I just shut her out and how . . . how hard it was. How hard it still is, because it makes me feel . . .”
She swallowed, pressed her eyes closed.
“It makes me feel unwanted and like I’m not enough, and talking about it just made me feel like that even more.”
“That’s a lot of feels,” Iris said.
“And you know how I hate those,” Astrid said, smiling without humor.
“Sweetie,” Claire said softly, but Astrid shook her head and pressed onward.
“When I found out about you and her, I just . . . I freaked out because, honestly, I thought, Why her? Why Claire and not me?”
“I think it should be clarified here that Astrid is not talking about you shagging her sister,” Iris said, tipping her wineglass at them.
“Jesus, Iris,” Astrid said.
“What? It needed to be stated.”
Astrid focused on Claire, squeezing her hand. “I just mean that you clearly had something with her. She meant something to you, and you meant something to her, I could tell. And I . . . I didn’t understand why I could never mean something to her. Not romantically, of course, but just . . . as something. As anything. We’d been through a lot together, had lost parents together, and I wanted to share that with her. I’d always wanted to share that with her, because she was the only one I could share it with, and when she constantly shut me down, it just felt . . .”
“Horrible,” Claire finished for her.
Astrid nodded. “But I don’t think it’s entirely Delilah’s fault. There was a lot about her experience I didn’t understand either. Things I didn’t want to see or try to understand. And when she pushed me away, I responded in kind, and then we just sort of fed off each other like that.”
Claire nodded, her throat suddenly tight. “I’m still sorry that I hurt you.”
Astrid released a breath and smiled at her. “Thank you.”
“What about Spencer?” Claire asked.
Astrid closed her eyes for a second. “Yeah. Spencer. I think he was just an easy way out for me.”
“He was a shit boot,” Iris said.
“Not helping,” Claire said, but Astrid laughed.
“No, Iris is right. He was a total shit boot.”
“And a shit belt, a shit sock, a shit shirt, a shit—”
“Yes, we get it, Ris,” Claire said, then turned back to Astrid. “I wish you would’ve let us in about him.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking a lot about that too. He made my life look how I was taught it should look. It was easy to just give in to him, knowing it made everyone else around me happy.”
“Not everyone,” Iris said.
“I know,” Astrid said. “But he was everything my mother always told me I wanted, so when he came along, I made myself want him, because what the hell did I really want if it wasn’t him? In the back of my mind, I knew he wouldn’t make me happy, and I knew you two knew that from the beginning, which was why I never talked about him, hardly ever brought him around. I didn’t want to hear it, that he was wrong, that I was wrong.”
“I’m sorry we held back too,” Claire said. “We should’ve just talked to you honestly from the beginning.”
“I didn’t make it easy,” Astrid said.
“No, you sure as hell didn’t,” Iris said.
Astrid rolled her eyes. “Ris, you and I already had this conversation, so can you shut your piehole?”
“Fine, fine,” Iris said, “but really, I just spoke up to hear Astrid Parker say piehole.”
The three women all laughed, and then Astrid pulled Claire into her arms. They sat like that for a long time, Claire reveling in the familiarity of her best friend’s embrace, her chin resting on Astrid’s bony shoulder.
“Whew, okay, now that that’s over with,” Iris said, clapping once when the other two women pulled away, “what are we going to do about your little problem?”
She was looking at Claire as she spoke, and Claire felt herself deflate.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Ruby is devastated, and Josh is—”
“Not that honorary shit boot,” Iris said, holding up a hand. “Because honestly, Josh is gonna Josh, and we’ve got you and Ruby, and we always will.”
Claire frowned. “Then what are you talking about?”
Iris glanced at the ceiling, her mouth moving as though whispering a prayer to the gods for help, before leveling Claire with wide eyes. “Delilah, my darling, lovesick best friend. Delilah Green.”
Claire shook her head. “Nothing. There’s nothing to do about her.”
Iris and Astrid eyed each other over Claire’s head.
“What?” she said. “There’s not. And I’m not lovesick. I’m just . . .” She looked around at her melancholy nest, all the signs of a devastating breakup littering her living room. “It doesn’t matter. Delilah’s gone.”
“Oh, honey,” Iris said. “If you think that woman isn’t completely in love with you, you’re even more clueless than I thought.”
“What?” Claire said. “No. She’s not. It was just sex.”
“Claire, you don’t do just sex,” Astrid said softly. “And you never have.”
“But she does. She made a bet,” Claire said, ignoring Astrid’s observation. “She made a bet that she could sleep with me, you said so yourself, and—”
“No one who’s only out to piss off their stepsister looks at someone they’re already sleeping with the way Delilah looked at you,” Iris said. “On the camping trip? At the vineyard? Hell, even at Vivian’s, she couldn’t take her eyes off you.”
Claire shook her head. “No. No, she doesn’t care about me. She left.”
Astrid sighed. “She left because she doesn’t think anyone here wanted her to stay.”
“I told her,” Claire said, tears finally welling up and spilling over. “I told her to stay.”
Neither of her best friends said anything after that. What was there to say? Delilah was gone; it didn’t matter what Claire felt for her, or what she might have felt for Claire. New York might as well have been a universe away.