“You really think I want Nash knowing I spent the last five years of my life stuck in this godforsaken town, just waiting for him to come back to me?” I’m laughing now, but my laugh is void of any humor. If I don’t laugh I might cry, and I can’t risk letting him see me break down. Not tonight. “You really think I want him knowing I’ve been waiting around for him to realize he’s supposed to be with me?”

“Huh …” Harley seems to realize something at that point, looking at me a moment as he slowly nods. “So, that’s what this is all about?”

I stare at him, snapping my mouth shut, realizing I’ve said too much.

“You’re using me to—what? To try to make him jealous?” His eyes are wide with disbelief.

“It’s not … it isn’t like that. I—” I begin to try and explain myself, but he interrupts my useless stammering.

“God, I can’t believe you!” He rakes his fingers through his hair, tearing at the ends as he glances up to the ceiling.

“What?” I snap, offended by his reaction.

“We’re supposed to be best friends.” He laughs under his breath. “I never even knew you were—”

This time, it’s me who interrupts him. “We are not best friends, Harley.” It’s totally the wine talking.

He gapes at me, hurt evident in his green eyes. “We’re not best friends?”

“No.” I scoff. “You and me, we’re friends by default. Nothing more.”

Shut up, Murph, I think to myself. Just shut up.

For a moment he looks a little flummoxed, like he can’t possibly believe what I’m saying.

“Harley, you were quarterback of our high school football team,” I say, as if it’s brand-new information. “I … I volunteered at the school library on weekends, for Christ’s sake!”

His brows pull together as he gauges me.

“If it weren’t for Nash, I doubt you and me would’ve even crossed paths, let alone be friends.” Another silence is left in the wake of my words, only this time it’s different. It’s thick with something I’ve never experienced before, and suddenly I feel terrible. I don’t even know why I’m saying what I’m saying. I know it’s a defense mechanism. But who the hell am I defending myself from? Harley? Why, when he’s the only friend I have?

Harley finally nods, pressing his lips into a thin line as he continues looking into my eyes, his gaze imploring. I’m not sure what more he expects me to say—if anything—so I turn, ending our conversation and busying myself with filling the kettle with water.

“Well, I mean, if that’s how you feel …” he finally says, pulling my attention back to him.

I turn, watching him linger in the doorway, wishing I could tell him it isn’t how I feel.

“But, Murph, you better tell Nash the truth, or I will,” he warns. “I won’t lie to him. He’s my best friend.” He pauses on his way out, adding, “I thought he was yours, too.” He offers me a look that speaks volumes, one that makes me feel about three inches tall, before turning and walking out. And as I remain standing there all alone in the kitchen, listening to the front door slam shut, my thoughts drift a mile away, back to the day my entire world as I knew it came crashing down around me.