Page 165 of Where We Stay

This time, I’m going to fucking listen.

Thirty Three

Blair

By the time the second round of tequila shots hits the table, I’ve decided I’m either going to tell the girls about Dean or fake my own death and start over for a second time.

The second option feels easier.

“Hypothetically, if you really cared about someone, but being with you could complicate their life, would walking away be the right thing to do?”

All three girls snap their heads toward me like I’ve just killed a cat.

“What?” I lift my margarita. “It’s hypothetical.”

G snorts before throwing back her shot. “Ha. Yeah, right.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “G, who was leaving your house on Wednesday morning?”

Rory and Mal immediately turn toward her.

“Fucking traitor,” G mutters.

“I never promised to keep quiet, babe.” I sip my margarita, smiling over the rim. “What are the chances you both happened to leave the house at the exact same time?”

“We’re not discussing this.” G points a warning finger at me, but the color rising in her cheeks only makes us laugh harder.

Eventually, the laughter dies down and all three pairs of eyes return to me.

Damn it.

“Back to you, B,” Mal says. “Did this hypothetical person ask you to walk away?”

“No,” I admit.

“Then you don’t get to decide that’s what’s best for them.”

“Respectfully, that man looks at you like you personally invented oxygen,” G adds, stirring her margarita. “I don’t think there’s anything you could tell him that would scare him away.”

“You don’t know that,” I murmur.

Rory reaches across the table and takes my hand. Somehow, I keep forgetting Dean is her older brother. Asking her for relationship advice suddenly feels a whole lot more awkward.

“You’re right. We don’t know what’s going on,” she says gently. “But I know Dean. He doesn’t bring people into Aspen’s life casually. If he brought you into that part of his world, he already made his choice.”

My eyes begin to burn.

G groans. “Oh, don’t fucking start. If you cry, then I’m going to cry, and if I cry, Rory cries. Mal won’t, though. Her heart’s made of stone.”

“Hey,” Mal protests before considering it. “Actually, yeah. That checks out.”

We all dissolve into laughter again, and some of the weight sitting on my chest finally begins to lift.

“I’m really glad I met you girls,” I tell them.

“Ditto, sis.” G leans across the table. “Now tell us—how big is Dean’s cock?”

Rory recoils. “That’s my brother, for fuck’s sake.”