Page 65 of All That Glitters

“How long are you going to bend over backward for her without telling her how you feel?” Nash asks. My stomach clenches at the mere thought of doing that. “Because until you do, nothing is going to change.”

“She’s softening,” I say, hearing the defensiveness in my tone.

“I’m glad. And maybe it was good that you gave it some time. You know her best.” I wince at his unknown prodding of a bruise. “But this can’t go on forever. Eventually, you’re going to have to lay it all on the table.”

I take a bite of my lukewarm pizza and think on his words. On one hand, I feel like my plan has been working. Progress has been painfully slow, but it’s there. On the other, Nash is right. Marigold and I can’t move on until we address the past. Because even when we do have great moments, it’s not long before the past sneaks back in and taints everything.

“Maybe you’re right,” I hedge.

“I tend to be in these situations.”

“Why, because you’ve dated half the women on campus?” I can’t help but throw a jab after he’s acted so impish.

“No,” he laughs, unbothered by my words. “Because I have six sisters.”

My eyes bulge. I barely manage not to choke on a bite of pizza.

“Six?” I wheeze.

“Yep. I’m the youngest.”

“I can’t imagine having that many siblings,” I say with a shake of my head. “Or raising seven kids.”

“My mom says seven represents completion and perfection in the Bible, so they stopped at seven,” Nash says, then winks. “I like to think God gave me to them last because I’m perfect.”

I snort. “I bet your sisters love to hear you say that.”

His grin widens. “It’s their favorite. Just like me.” He turns and grabs another slice of pizza. “So, are you going to take my advice now that you know I’m an expert on women?”

I laugh again. “Your situation with Paisley begs to differ. But yes, I think I’ll try to talk to her soon. I don’t want to stay in this cycle of highs and lows.”

He bobs his head. “Good. And as for Paisley … that’s going exactly how I want it to.”

I raise a disbelieving brow. “Whatever you say.”

“Just trust me,” he replies with a mischievous grin.

I don’t say anything more, my mind drifting toward Marigold as it always does. She’s my North Star, after all. Nash turns on the TV, sensing I’m done talking, and I stare blankly as I comb through everything I’ve wanted to say for the past few months. I’m sure it will all come out differently once I actually get to talk to her. But I still spend the rest of the night thinking of how best to tell my best friend I’m sorry and that I love her.

Chapter thirty-one

You Know Me

Marigold Belmore

A smile stretches my lips as I set down the freshly printed article on Paisley’s desk. She’s gone—as is everyone else—but I figured I’d leave it for her anyway. She likes to edit on paper when she can, but plenty of the reporters insist on sending her digital files to make editing easier. I don’t always print mine for her, but I figured since she took care of me the other day, it could be a thank-you present.

Letting people take care of me isn’t easy, but when I woke up, stomach full and body rested, I realized it might be okay to allow it every now and again. I’m still worried about how behind I keep falling, but that might just be what college is like for me. School used to be so easy … I sigh.

“Hey, do you have a minute?” Jameson’s voice startles me.

I’d thought he’d left with the others. Even Charlie left a while ago, telling me to lock the newsroom behind me. I was in a groove, writing my portion of the next article, and didn’t want to break my streak by switching locations until I finished.

“I was about to head to the library to study,” I tell him as I turn away from Paisley’s desk.

His expression is wary, which makes my anxiety spike. We haven’t talked about anything other than the article since he forced me to rest two days ago. I didn’t think much of it because I’ve been focused on catching up, but now I’m wondering if he was waiting for the right moment to get me alone.

“I want to talk about last summer,” he says quickly, like he’s worried he won’t be able to get the words out.