It felt important to me to show Jordan something beautiful in my new world, even if it involved subjecting both of us to twodegree weather.
From the bottom of the mountain hike, we stared up at the entire two-mile trail, into the clouds, covered in fairly recent snow, the wind moving around us increasingly quickly.
“Are you kidding me?” Jordan said.
“It’s worth it,” I said.
This, as though I knew.
By the time we came to the top of the mountain, we were breathless and freezing—but not too freezing to notice that it was, in fact, the perfect spot that I’d hoped it would be: placing us at eye level with the crystal blue sky, leaving us to look down over the trees and the untouched snow, and the frozen river far below us.
“Okay, it’s stunning up here,” she said. “I admit it. It’s the nicest view I’ve ever seen.”
“I know.” I looked down the mountain at the beauty all around us. “It’s inimitable.”
We sat down on the bench and I handed her my thermos of water. “If I say I agree with you and that I forgive you for using the word inimitable,” she asked, “can we go back down the mountain now?”
I smiled. “Maybe.”
She took a long sip of the water. Then she took another. “I know you think I’m going to judge you,” she said.
“Not true,” I said. “I think you’re already judging me.”
“So then why aren’t we at a bar yet?”
I laughed, a little louder than could be mistaken for genuine. Then, she turned toward me.
“Look, Annie . . .”
“Don’t start that way,” I said. “Please don’t start that way. In the history of the world, no one has ever said anything good to me after starting with look, Annie. And something tells me this isn’t going to be the first time.”
“I was just going to say that I get it,” she said. “I do. You got screwed, royally, and made a major decision because of it. An impulsive decision. One you wouldn’t have made under normal circumstances. Ever.”
I tilted my head, toward her. “And how is this supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.
“I’m just saying that you’re human. You wanted to be the one to move on quicker than Nick did, to prove that you’re more okay. So update your Facebook page. New status: Married. Let them put up that dumb red heart beside it, proving to the entire world you’re fine. You’re happy. You’re content.” She paused. “Then come home.”
I shook my head. “That isn’t what this is about,” I said. “I don’t even have a Facebook page.”
She gave me a look. “Then I really don’t know where to start.”
“Jordan, I know what this all must look like to you,” I said, motioning around myself. “But I’m doing great. I’m happy. Yes, it
takes a minute to fit into a new life. But that’s par for the course. You can’t tell me it was all smooth sailing when you and Simon got married. Not with Sasha and his ex-wife and all the rest of it.”
“It was smoother than this.”
I shook my head. “I’m happy,” I said.
“So you keep saying.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She looked right at me. “If you’re so happy,” she said, “then why do you look so sad?”
That stopped me. And, before I knew it, I was crying. I was sitting with my oldest friend on top of a crazy mountain, crying about all of it. Losing my job and being inundated by Griffin’s crazy family and being hated by his Town & Country ex-girlfriend and living in a town that felt like everyone else’s home but mine. I cried about how, in all the craziness, I felt disconnected from him. And from myself.
“The truth is that I get that the restaurant is opening soon,” I said. “I knew that was going to be the deal. But on top of everything that’s going on, it’s just making me feel . . .”