LITMIR.BIZ

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with her dark brown hair and big brown eyes, Bailey would always be striking, but right now, she was in her prime. Her body was even more perfect than it had been in college—a little fuller, and yet not an ounce heavier. Her skin was soft with a hint of tan. I knew how fascinating she was to men—I’d seen their reactions. Which brought me to Jake.

      “You’ve finally admitted to yourself that you’re in love with him.” I didn’t bother with any preamble. This was Bailey. And me. And as we got older, as we ventured separately into the world, into our own careers and societies, I realized, more than ever, the incredible value of our friendship. Of the instinctive way we understood each other’s thoughts and feelings. In a world of subterfuge and keeping up appearances, having Bailey in my life was one of life’s greatest miracles.

      “Let it go, Kor.”

      “I can’t do that.”

      She glanced up then to catch me staring at her. Hard. I was wearing my “I mean business” expression. I was careful not to overuse it, so I reserved it for only the most critical situations.

      This was clearly one. My husband and I were heading for another of our rare fights—over Bailey and Jake, as usual—but I didn’t care about that as much as I cared about Bailey ruining her life.

      “You’re in love with him and it scares you, so you broke things off. You’ve been cutting off your nose to spite your face since we were six years old.”

      She’d know exactly what I was referring to.

      “You can’t still hold me accountable for saying I didn’t want to be your friend.”

      “But the point is, you’re still doing it. You were afraid I’d only be your friend for a little while, remember? That I’d get tired of you.” Because she hadn’t lived in a beautiful big house like I had. Even back then, in our innocence, we’d recognized the differences between us. “You told me you cried yourself to sleep that whole weekend,” I reminded her.

      “I’m not six years old anymore.”

      “But you cried after you had lunch with Jake today, didn’t you?”

      She’d reapplied her makeup. I could tell because she’d used the eyeliner she carried in her purse, which smeared more than the expensive department store liner she used at home. “He’s a nice guy,” she said, shuffling papers and folders as though she had an important court date to get to. Court had been out of session for more than an hour. “I hurt him and that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid for most of this past year.”

      “I know.” I could feel her pain on Jake’s behalf. Shared it, even. But I couldn’t worry about Jake, nor could I worry about Danny right now. Bailey needed me. At twenty-eight we were still young, but that wouldn’t last forever, and if she didn’t find the courage to live soon, she’d run out of time. “Tell me you don’t love him and I’ll drop this.”

      “I’ve told him since day one, before day one, that I am not going to get married,” she said, dropping the papers and looking me straight in the eye.

      It was a look that begged me to trust her. To support her while she made the choices she had to make.

      That look had always worked on me. Until now.

      “What happened?” I asked while I tried to figure out how to help her. Something was telling me that we were breaking new ground and I had to step carefully so I could help Bailey have the life she wanted. I’d known for a long time that I was the only person who really knew her. Everyone else, including my parents who adored her, thought she should be left alone to pursue her own course. But Bailey had made me promise, the night her mother died, that I’d never do that—never leave her alone in the hell of her own thoughts.

      She’d been so good at convincing everyone that she was strong and capable and self-sufficient that I was the only one in her life who knew the real, bone-deep Bailey Watters. I was the only one who saw all her insecurities.

      Jake was privy to some of them.

      Which was why he’d held on for so long.

      And would continue to hold on. I just had to get Bailey to ask him to come back to her.

      Climbing Mount Everest might have been easier.

      “Did he show you the ring?” I’d seen it—on Christmas Day, after Bailey had left and the rest of us tried to pick up the pieces of a meal gone awry. And again on Valentine’s Day. We’d double-dated with Jake and Bailey on an overnight trip to Atlantic City. Jake had been planning to propose and then get Bailey to an all-night chapel to seal the deal. Danny and I were to have been their witnesses.

      Anytime he’d gotten close to asking, Bailey had preempted the request with one diversion after another until Jake, figuring that he was setting himself up for another rejection, had dropped it. The entire trip had been exhausting beyond measure. For all four of us.

      “What ring?” The sharpness in Bailey’s tone told me I’d misstepped. Shit.

      I held my tongue between my teeth.

      “He bought me a ring?”

      I tried so hard to read that dark expression on my friend’s face, but her signals were more scrambled than usual.

      I was confused. And frightened. For both of us.

      “Damn him,” Bailey said, throwing herself back in her seat, elbows on the arms of her chair, fingers steepled. Like a certain judge we’d both known used to do at the dinner table when he was displeased.

      Not that I was going to tell her that. At least not then.

      “What gives him the right to put this kind of pressure on me?” she said, her tone just short of biting.

      “I’ve told him repeatedly not to build us into more than we were. I wouldn’t move in with him even when it looked like I wasn’t going to be able to make my rent last summer before I started getting paid. I pay my way when we go out. I make life decisions without consulting him....”

      All things I’d heard Danny list, too. What Bailey saw as fair play, honesty, kindness, Danny saw as insults and grievances against his friend.

      “But you love him and he loves you, Bail,” I said softly, wishing I could promise her that she’d never be hurt again, that her heart would be safe with Jake, that there’d be a happily ever after.

      Her eyes narrowed as she studied me and for the first time I felt...less. Like I wasn’t as good as Bailey was, or as smart. I felt that way because she seemed to be looking at me that way. Like I was some kid who just didn’t get it. Some naive little girl who couldn’t see reality.

      Bailey and I...we saw things differently a lot. Our different perspectives were part of what made our friendship so strong. But we were always equals. “Love isn’t enough.”

      “It can be,” I said, struggling to get through to her. As we grew older, she’d also gained an ability to hold me at bay. Or her skin was thicker. Or something.

      But I knew she was in there. And my job was not to give up on her. Even now, I didn’t doubt our connection. Or our commitment to each other.

      “I saw thirteen clients today,” Bailey said, her eyes shadowed but completely dry. “Ten yesterday,” she added. “And I’ve got another eleven scheduled for tomorrow.”

      She was busy. I understood that. Was proud as hell of her abilities. If she wasn’t such a great lawyer, the partners wouldn’t let her, the junior member of their firm, take so many cases.

      “This isn’t about time, Bail. Jake understands your schedule. He works a lot, too.”

      “Time wasn’t my point.” The anger in her eyes struck fear in my heart.

      I was losing her slowly, hour by hour, day by day, Bailey’s spirit was evaporating and I didn’t know what to do. “I’m sorry,” I said. “What was your point?”

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