The Secret Recipe for Moving On Karen Bischer (read my book .txt) 📖

Thankfully, the cold air has driven the make-out couple inside, and it’s just Brynn and me standing on the porch. I make the executive decision to sit us on the stairs since I don’t want Brynn puking all over the porch swing cushion.

“What are we doing?” Brynn asks, her head lolling to the side.

“We’re getting you some air,” I say tightly.

“Why are you being nice to me?” she slurs. “You shouldn’t be so nice to me.”

“This isn’t being nice, this is making sure you don’t puke on Alisha’s rug.”

“Kay,” Brynn says. “But you can hate me. I know you do. I would.”

“It’s okay.” This is so not the response I ever thought I’d give her, but I fear if I told her it really sucks to have your boyfriend stolen from you, she’d start making a big scene out of it as only a drunk person can.

“Ellie, I’m not a bad person,” she says, her face turning more red than green.

“I never said you were,” I say. Then again, I did call her an asshole. And a “piece of work.” But she’s in no condition for logic at the moment, so I hope she lets that go by without argument.

“You need to know,” Brynn says, and I see giant tears forming in her eyes …

This can’t be good.

“… I never meant to hurt you. It’s just—”

“Agresti, hey!” We both look up and see Luke and Greta coming up the path to the house. They’re both walking stiffly, with their hands in their pockets. I, however, am thankful to them for breaking up this extremely awkward and unwanted heart-to-heart.

“What are you guys doing outside?” Greta says, as Brynn’s head flops to her knees. “Not enough action in there? I knew there wouldn’t be.”

Luke gives her an exasperated look that plainly says, “Come on,” and I wonder if they’re on the same page about being at this party.

“Brynn’s, uh, a little sick,” I say, and it’s kind of funny to watch Luke and Greta both step back at once.

“Is this weird for you?” Luke asks, squinting at me.

“A little,” I say, Brynn apparently not hearing. “But we can’t have her pass out on the porch by herself now, can we?”

Greta shakes her head. “You’re a better person than I am.”

They both step past us. “See you inside,” Luke says, with a wave over his shoulder.

I hope Brynn will just sit quietly—where is Hunter anyway?—but no such luck. She picks her head up and her face is totally tear-stained. “Ellie, I’m so sorry.”

“We’ve addressed that already,” I say, wondering what I have to do for her to stop bringing this up. “We’re okay.”

“But I don’t want you thinking I’m a man stealer,” she says, and I wonder if the tears are going to freeze to her face. “I didn’t move in on him just to take him from you. I love Hunter. I’ve always loved him. Since we were kids. I never had the guts to tell him until…”

“You found out I was going to sleep with him,” I finish. “And then you probably sent that info in to The Buzz, right?”

That’s all I need to say. Brynn’s flat-out sobbing. “I’m such a terrible person.”

I don’t respond with anything since nothing seems to appease her anyway, and suddenly, she’s clutching my arm so I have to look right at her. “He said you guys were done and you knew it,” she says between sobs.

I shake my head. Of course he’d lie about it.

“And even though I figured out he lied … I just can’t help it. I really love Hunter. Like, truly love him. I wouldn’t have tried to get between you guys if I didn’t. You need to know that.”

Two months ago, I probably would’ve yelled at her, “And I didn’t love him?” But looking at her right here, wracked with shuddering sobs and her hair sticking to her face, I don’t hate her. In fact, I almost feel sorry for her. And a little sorry for myself, too, since the cold air is cutting through my sweater right now.

I give her an awkward pat on the back and she rests her head on my shoulder. Okay, I wasn’t going for that level of friendliness, but I don’t push her off because it makes her stop talking. Instead, she’s finally quiet. And by the time Hunter comes out, stripped down to his undershirt, my hands and face are completely numb, and Brynn’s fast asleep.

“I think I cleaned it all up,” he says. “Thank you for sitting with her.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, steadying Brynn as I stand up.

Hunter puts his hands under her arms and lifts her up. “Come on, Brynn, I’m going to take you home.”

Brynn makes some kind of unintelligible noise as Hunter wraps her arm around his shoulders.

I hand him a plastic bag. “Better safe than sorry,” I say.

“Seriously, Ellie,” Hunter says. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“No, I didn’t. But this seemed like the better option than cleaning up the puke.”

“Well, you chose wisely,” Hunter says, shaking his head. He leads Brynn down the stairs toward the driveway. “See you Monday.”

“See you,” I say.

It’s strange, but as I watch them walk away, I realize that for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel a pang of sadness or anger as they go. In fact, I don’t feel much of anything.

But that could be because I’m frozen solid. With that, I head back into the fray.

CHAPTER 16

When I get inside, I check my phone, thinking three hours must have passed since I arrived, but no, I’ve only been here a little over an hour. How is that even possible? I mean, I’ve ingested half a beer with the football team, passed out food to the drunken masses, and helped out an undeserving ex in need. Surely that’s way more than one night’s worth of action for the average person.

“Agresti!”

I spin around and see Luke and Greta sitting on the stairs