"I know you, Sunny. I know why you stayed with Harry for so long. Maybe I don't know why you felt like it wasn't the right relationship for you," she said, one eyebrow raising, an invitation for me to fess up. I pressed my lips firmly together, and she continued. "And I know you feel guilty for finally being put in a position where you had to be the one who broke things off. But just because you hurt Harry, doesn't make you a bad person," Natalie whispered.

Natalie did know me. We'd been friends growing up in the suburbs together, friends through college, friends here in the city, constantly marveling that we were now adults living somewhat adjusted versions of our childhood dreams. I'd only really been able to make a living through my art after my PicsApp account grew popular with my daily decoration and documentation of this carriage house. Natalie wasn't the famous fashion designer she'd predicted, but she was a stylist for the young wives of the financial district. We'd grown into our new dreams together.

And maybe a little part of me had found Harry comfortable because Natalie had just married her husband Theo—a friendly werewolf who burnt off his pre-full moon energy at the same gym as Natalie. Natalie had taken the next adult step, and I hadn't wanted to be left behind.

"I just felt like…I wasn't totally myself with Harry," I admitted.

"Harry was boring," Natalie reasoned without batting an eyelash. "Nice-boring. Like what other people think normal is."

"I'm not normal?" I asked, voice squeaking slightly.

Natalie huffed a soft laugh. "You're lots of things. You're the girl who screamed at those gargoyles for me when we were ten. You're a twee and charming social media influencer. And you're the woman whose imagination sometimes produces images that I can't even begin to understand where they came from."

She nodded her head over at one of the frames on the wall, an illustration of a strange tangle of figures and weeds and teeth and chains. It was one of my favorite things I'd ever drawn. Harry had 'genuinely disliked' it, as strong a term for hate as he would use. He'd found it disturbing and confusing, and I’d caught him studying it occasionally with a twist of disgust on his usually placid features.

"I'm…" My cheeks were hot. Harry wasn't the only one I hid things from. "I'm not even sure I really want the things I think of, or if I just…like thinking about them."

Natalie stared blankly back at me for a moment and then blinked. She glanced down at Emmett in her arms before turning to tuck him gently sleeping into his carrier before facing me again.

"Are we talking sex stuff?"

I made a soft, strangled sound at the back of my throat, and Natalie answered with a stifled squeal.

"We are!" she gasped, obviously delighted. "Sit, sit, sit."