“I’ve been struggling since Zoya got here.”
“Why’s that?”
A sigh escapes me before I can stop it. I can’t hide anything from Willow, even if it does feel like things are off-balance right now. “I got jealous.”
She gives me that look—the one that encourages me to keep talking. No judgment or expectation. Just openness.
It’s nice to see it.
That’s a little more normal than I need.
“Zoya and Pavel have a closer relationship than I thought,” I explain. “I mean, they’re not like cozying up to each other or anything, but you can tell they’ve shared a lot together.”
She nods.
I set my teacup down and chafe my arm. “It’s hard to watch. Even when I know it’s totally unreasonable, I can’t help thinking that he’s going to choose her in the end.”
“That’s not unreasonable.”
I laugh. “Yes, it is.”
“It’s perfectly normal for you to feel threatened by your husband’sex-girlfriendbeing in your home right now.”
She peeks over my shoulder, and I follow her gaze to the hallway. It’s empty, but I know she’s searching for Zoya to see if she can speak freely.
Not that she ever would hide her words from someone. But the hesitation is evident on her face. I can tell.
She focuses on me. “I’d be worried if youweren’tjealous about Zoya being around.”
“I told him about my feelings.” I twist my fingers together while staring at the coffee table. “I let him know how I was jealous, and it was…intense.”
“How did it make you feel?”
“Scared,” I admit as I tighten my hands together. “But also good. Liberating.”
“That’s an interesting choice of words.”
“I mean like…” I run my fingers through my hair, brushing the strands out over my right shoulder. “It felt like this massive weight was lifted and I could breathe easier.”
Her radiant smile appears, the one I’m used to seeing whenever I say something that deeply pleases her. And it’s more than just being pleased, too. It’s a knowing grin that indicates she’s seen something I haven’t.
And while I want to be irked, I feel comforted by its appearance. Because it means things really are getting back to normal.
“Because you’re falling in love,” she says pointedly.
I scoff and then stammer over a logical explanation. My lips seem intent on betraying me, dropping syllables left and right without formulating a damn word.
When I do manage to speak, it’s to blurt, “It’s just the pregnancy hormones!”
That’s twice now I’ve said that.
And that’s twice now where I’m probably wrong.
Willow arches her left eyebrow and holds up a hand for me to stop. “Girl, don’t even try.”
“You have no idea how I’m feeling.”
“I know what I see. And what I see is my best friend struggling with jealousy because she’s falling in love with her husband.”