My self-assuredness drains out of me as Nick looks at me expectantly.

“I’m having kind of a freak-out,” I whisper.

Nick rubs his hands over his face. “A freak-out? What does that mean?”

I shift from foot to foot. “Well, the wedding’s coming up, and I have so much to do, and I burned a pie and then I fell off a ladder and crushed a bunch of poms and I—”

Nick holds out a hand. “No.”

I stop talking. “No what?”

He shakes his head, looking at his feet. “No, I can’t help you.”

“But I’m . . .” I attempt to take the whine out of my voice. “I’m having a personal crisis.”

“Chloe.” Nick looks up and meets my eyes. “When aren’t you having a personal crisis?”

I swallow again, hard. “I . . . I thought you would help me.”

“Because I always do, right? Because you can treat me however you want and I’ll always be here?”

My mouth goes dry. “What do you mean, treat you however I want?”

Nick crosses his arms. “You’ve been ignoring me for a week.”

“It’s not my fault I don’t want a relationship,” I say, my voice shaking. “I was honest with you about that. You knew I was screwed-up and busy and—”

Nick shakes his head. “You weren’t exactly honest, though, were you, Chloe? I knew this would happen. I knew it would, but you kept doing your thing until I broke down and thought maybe you were serious. Maybe you actually wanted to take a chance on this, to have a real relationship.”

Someone walks by with a golden retriever, and neither of us says anything until they’re out of earshot.

“But you’re doing what you always do,” Nick whispers, even though no one’s around anymore to hear. “You’re showing up only when you need my help.”

“I don’t just show up when I need your help!” I almost shout. “We’re friends. Friends help each other.”

“This.” Nick points between us. “This is not how friends act. I can’t keep being your unpaid, on-call therapist.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have sex with my therapist. That would be a serious ethical breach on their part.”

“Cool,” Nick mutters. “Keep making everything into a joke, like you always do.”

“We are friends, Nick.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Why not?” I ask, tears springing to my eyes.

“Because I’m in love with you!” he shouts. “Isn’t it obvious?”

I drop the bag of pom supplies, then kneel and start picking things up. Some of the tissue paper has come out of the stuffed-full bag and now it’s on the ground, soaking in rainwater, getting completely ruined. It’s fine. Anything to avoid standing up and facing Nick again.

The stillness of the night expands around us, the only sound the gentle swish of a car driving slowly by.

He groans. “Let’s forget this entire conversation ever happened, okay? Forget anything either of us said.”

I stand up, nodding, inspecting my bag. “Yep. Okay.”