‘It smells here, Caitlin. I’ve told you that before. It smells like cat piss, and—’ She swallowed. Hard. ‘Also, your mattress is a mess and you can’t sleep on it until it dries. Have you never heard of a mattress protector?’ She shook her head. ‘Kids these days.’

I couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I’m older than you.’

‘I’m wiser.’

‘I know.’

I did. Maybe she always had been.

I remembered what she’d said. My stomach tightened, the toast threatening to come back up. ‘Lina?’

‘What?’ She was folding t-shirts. I couldn’t remember ever having folded a t-shirt in my life.

‘I don’t know if I can come to your place.’

She frowned, not looking up. ‘It’s fine. We have two spare rooms. Matt doesn’t mind. He’s working all the time anyway.’ She drew in a long breath, exhaled. Shaky. ‘He got a promotion just before Christmas. A big one. I would have told you, if you’d ever let me. He’s working all the time now, but the money is good. It’s how we can afford the wedding.’

‘Oh.’ I felt a flood of guilt for thinking all the things I didn’t want to admit I’d been thinking.

She hesitated. ‘I didn’t lie, back then. We needed all our money for the deposit. Every cent. You know, our fridge died during the move and we had to borrow money from Mum to buy another one.’

I went to say something, but she cut me off.

‘But it’s not like I was forced into it. I could have gone with you. I could have said no to the house. We could have bought something smaller or older. I made a choice, and it was the right one for me. I hoped it would be the right one for you too. I’m sorry.’

‘Leen—’

‘Come to my place.’ She smiled. ‘It’s only a townhouse, but it’s nice.’

‘No, it’s not …’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t know if I can get there.’ I felt ridiculous and pathetic—and even more ridiculous and pathetic for ever thinking this was normal. ‘In a car, or … since the accident. I can’t.’

Lina stopped, the pieces falling into place. She put down a pair of socks and came around the bed. ‘Cait.’ She kneeled in front of me. ‘It’ll be okay.’

I looked at her. ‘I’m scared.’

‘I know.’ She took my hand, squeezed it. Holding on.

‘Why are you doing this?’ My voice shook. ‘If I’m so … why?’

She looked down at our hands. ‘You’re my best friend. What else can I do?’