I stayed behind to lock the door. I knew eventually she’d question me about where I was last night, but so far she just seemed relieved that nothing was missing and I was okay. Maybe she’d forgotten where I’d told her I was going. I slid in next to her and glanced back at the house as the driver pulled away. I wanted to come back later, but with Cole instead.

I looked over at Sia, smiling until I remembered my alibi for the night before.

I told her I was going to be at my house last night.

Once we were back in the city, Sia should’ve gone to work, but she didn’t. She took the day off, declaring it Best Friend Day. For me. For the ass best friend. For the friend who had been lying to her.

We went to a new restaurant. We laughed. We drank. Fuck—we got drunk. The day, for all the craziness that had happened, was fun. Sia got my mind off of everything: Cole, the attack, my house. The only thing that wasn’t fun about the day was me. Sia was intent on celebrating me, while I was lying to her face.

How could I make that right in my head? How would I even try? I couldn’t. There were no words, no ways. At the end of the day, as we were giggling and tripping over ourselves going into the elevator, I knew who the bad guy was: me. Sia was being my friend, like she always had. I wasn’t doing the same. Nope. Douchebag. That was me.

She helped me into my place, and I fell on the floor.

“Oomph!” I felt nothing. I was just startled, and laughter pealed out of me.

Sia fell down beside me, laughing too. “We’re horrible.”

“No.” I pointed at her, my finger pressing into her skin. “We did what every burglarized person should do.”

She snorted, fighting back a grin. “Get wasted?”

“Yes.” I offered an emphatic nod. I meant business. “And when you get burglarized, I’ll do the same.”

“Spend a paycheck on cheap whiskey?”

I sat up and drew in a breath. “You spent a paycheck? A whole one?”

She rolled around, arching her back as more laughter came from her. “God, no. I love you, Addison. I probably spent two hundred dollars tonight.”

I touched her hand. “I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

“No.” She shook her head, almost knocking herself over as she struggled to sit up. “I owe you, and I’m doing what a friend should do. I’m taking your mind off things.”

I let out a sigh. “You really are.” I pulled her hand to my chest. “Thank you, friend.”

“No problem.” Her laughter dried up. Her voice grew somber. “You’d do the same for me.”

“Would I?”

“Addison.” She tilted her head. “You know you would.”

“I don’t know anymore,” I said, talking mostly to myself.

“Oh, Addy,” she murmured, scooting forward. She wrapped her arms around my waist and laid her head on my shoulder. “You lost your real best friend.” She moved her hand to rest over my heart. “He’s in here now. I can only hope to do him proud, but you’re selling yourself short. Addison, you are an amazing friend. You’re allowed to grieve the loss of your soulmate, no matter how long that takes. And trust me, I’m trying to play catch-up here. I’ve been slacking, you know, since a certain neighbor of yours came into my life.”

I laughed softly, leaning into her. “Thank you, Sia.”

She rested her chin on my shoulder, holding me once again.

“Thank you for making me feel better.”

“No problem.” She pressed her cheek to mine. “That’s what real friends do for each other, no matter what shit has hit the fan.”

“I’m a bad friend.”

Cole was in my kitchen, making scrambled eggs on my stove. He paused to frown at me. “What do you mean?”

“Sia’s been there for me so many times, and I’m lying to her about—” I waved at him. “You know.”

“Cut yourself a break.” Turning the stove off, he put the scrambled eggs on a plate and came toward the table. He grabbed two forks on the way and sat down. He gestured to the plate and passed me a fork. “Dig in. This is our breakfast.”

“Chef Cole extraordinaire, huh?”

“You know it.” He grinned, fork in hand and ready to dive in. He paused to stare at me a moment and seemed to grow thoughtful, lowering his hand to the table. “This is what I lived on when I was on my own for a while.”

“The family you stayed with didn’t cook for you?”

“They did, but I stayed in the stables. If they came for me, I didn’t want the family to die, too.” He shook his head. “That’s ridiculous thinking now. The Bertals would’ve cleaned house. They would’ve killed the family first and then come looking for me when they couldn’t find me in the house.”

“I’m sorry.”

“They weren’t your family.” He shrugged, raising his fork again. “But going back to the eggs, this is what I ate a lot of the time. I had dinner once or twice a week with the family. The other times, there was a small kitchen area in the barn, and I ate lots and lots of eggs. Somehow I got it in my head that that’s what you eat to get big.”

He laughed before spearing some eggs and popping them in his mouth. He ate half the plate in a few minutes before leaning back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “I hated eggs when I first came back. I wouldn’t eat them. Carter never said anything, but I knew he wondered. We’d have dinner every now and then when I came back, and if there were eggs in the meal, I always picked them out.”