The flat line of my lips turns into a smile.

"You need someone like me to tell you that ratty old T-shirt doesn't do your complexion any favors."

I look down to see I'm wearing an oversized, perfectly worn in cotton T-shirt from high school. On the front is the school mascot, an image of Poseidon wielding his trident. Across the back, as though burning into my skin are the letters K-E-N-N-E-L-Y. As a member of the football team, Carrick had to wear it on game days for other teams from our school in a show solidarity.

"What this-?" I stop myself, recalling the uncovering task. My smile probably looks like the emoji with the squiggly lips, but I say, "Thank you."

Kat gives me a sideways glance and says, "Great blog post, by the way. I've been dying to make these brownies," she says, checking the cupboard for the necessary ingredients.

"If we're out of sugar, you know where to go," I say from behind the fridge door, wondering what there is to eat, and being sure not to put my back to her lest I reveal the last name emblazoned on the back of the T-shirt.

"Are you hungry?" Kat asks.

"Starved. All we have are old take out containers and condiments."

I wait for her to joke about crazy-roni, but she's quiet.

"That came for you the other day." She's points at a bouquet of white tulips and a paper bag next to it.

Some of the women in the UBoss group sent themselves flowers for completing last week's tasks, but we don't have each other's addresses, so I rule out a special delivery from one of them. I recall the symbolism of white tulips from a poem I read in high school: forgiveness.

I open the paper bag and find a few cans of tomato soup and a card with a sketch of a grilled cheese sandwich.

The note inside says I'd have included the bread, cheese, and butter, but thought it might go bad before you had a chance to make a grilled cheese. Get well soon. --C When I'm done reading, in a soft voice Kat says, "I can be silly and loud. I also interfere and I'm sorry if that upsets you, but it's been brave of you to get out there, live more, and have fun. That you've done the dare surprised me in a good way. Then I noticed you'd been doing nice things for yourself lately, the red lipstick for instance, and that you were trying to have more fun, like going to the movies even if by yourself."

I pray she doesn't know about the naked dance party.

"Then I heard you on the phone the other night and saw your interaction with Carrick. I know there's more you're not telling me. I'm not going to pry. It's your business and I respect you, as pushy as I can be sometimes. But once again, I'm putting it out there, if you need someone to talk to I'm here for you."

I set the note down and then drop into the chair with a frown I can't disguise.

"In college, you smiled and laughed more and it's like with each passing year you get sadder and sadder."

"I don't know what to do with my life."

"Live it," she says simply.

But it's not that easy for me. There are so many what ifs. Too many, but I can't let them get in the way of telling my best friend the truth, at least part of it. I draw a deep breath and say, "I joined a program called UBoss facilitated by this woman named Mimi Boss."

Kat slaps her hand on the table. "No way. Mimi Boss?"

I nod.

"She's one of my private yoga clients. I know her program."

"You do?"

"Yeah, it's fabulous-she actually really helped me figure out my yoga business when I started out. If you recall I have a PhD and, um, don't use it. We traded yoga classes for life coaching. I'm only sorry I never thought to suggest her to you."

"You did life coaching?" I ask surprised. "It's always seemed like you know exactly how to live."

Katya squawks a laugh. "You're not serious. Oh my dear, Navy. I'm motivated and extroverted and impetuous, impatient... but being an adult? Ha. I'm still growing up and if I'm honest, I have a long way to go."

"I was afraid to tell you about it because having fun and being comfortable with yourself comes so easily to you."

"You think it's been easy for me to become the chief executive officer of my life?"

"You know how to have fun and as you reminded me the other day, I'm no fun." Tears brim in my eyes.

"That's not what I meant, but I'm sorry because I see how hearing that might have stung." She rubs my shoulder and then pulls me into a hug.

Through the tears dampening her fleece I say, "Your comment was an echo of the truth. That's what's so hard about it."

Kat squeezes harder. "You do know how to have fun. You just don't always make it easy for yourself. You sometimes get in your own way, overthinking and analyzing things."

"This community of women has really helped me," I say, pulling away and fussing with the hem of the T-shirt.

"I'm really glad you found UBoss. For people like us who're driven, but not exactly sure where we're going, it can be tremendously helpful to have a guide and a community."

"Yeah, but Mimi told me to follow my heart."

Kat smiles. "Always."

I shake my head. "No."

Her hand flies to her hip and her eyebrow arches threateningly. "How's not following it been working out for you?"

I don't answer. "I thought you were going to make brownies."

"Yep. My heart reliably leads me to chocolate. And yours... a can of tomato soup," she says, pulling out a bowl. "I suggest you test the waters before diving into a sea of chocolate bliss."

I read the card again, remembering the silly sketches I'd find around the Kennely household. Carrick would leave goofy and oddly endearing doodles of family members doing things like hanging from one another's arms like a barrel of monkeys, their faces floating on a bouquet of balloons, several of them floating away, eating dirt-that was when their dad was voted into office.

I recall one he left for me with the moon sparkling on the water-the two of us standing on our heads in the sand.

"How did he know where we live?"

Kat stills her rummaging in the cabinets. "After the cab ride home, I had your phone-you almost left it on the backseat."

"He called."

"A bunch of times."

"Did you talk to him?"

"I texted that you weren't feeling well."

I spot my cell phone on the counter and see he called three times in the last two days. I go to the text thread next. There are twice that number of texts. "I don't want anything to do with Carrick. Please, Kat, don't, just don't," I say, shaking my head.

"Are you sure? Because that T-shirt doesn't look like it belonged to his sister." I study her placid expression. I see neither malice nor the intent to hurt me, but somehow my chest still aches.

"Is there anything else you should tell me?" I ask, but before she can answer, my phone rings in my hand.

I face the screen to her. "It's him. Is he going to be calling every day?"

"Did it occur to you that he cares?"

I doubt that.

"Answer," she insists, but before I can click decline, she's pressed the green button on the screen.

I huff out an irritated, "Hello."

Chapter 20.

Carrick The sound of her voice, even if she's upset, brings me relief. The knots in my chest loosen. I've spent too long living in regret at not having the chance to tell her the truth-that is, if she'll give me the chance. I don't blame her for not wanting to see my sorry face ever again.

"Are you feeling better?" I ask, knowing her answer probably won't be delicate.

"I was. Not anymore now that you've called. What do you want?"

Ouch. "Did you make the soup?" I hear several beeps and then a hum.

"I'm microwaving it now. Thanks, by the way, but you didn't have to." Her voice softens and then hardens again. "I can take care of myself."

I wouldn't expect anything less, but the edge tells me that was born out of necessity to protect herself, not only because she's a strong, independent woman. I don't want to think that I played a part in any of the tears she's ever shed. I'm reluctant to think I was that important, but there's no denying that I hurt her. It's followed me around the world and made me think about what I'd done; how I'd hurt someone I cared about.

"How'd you know I wasn't feeling well?"

"After leaving the Urban Table-Kat was right, they do have the best Challah in town, though I doubt you want to hear that at the moment-I saw you getting into a cab. You looked under the weather. I'm sorry if it was from being in my presence." I let out a self-deprecating laugh, trying to keep the conversation light and hoping to get her to laugh too. "I'll never forget that time everyone got mono-all my brothers, Claire-the whole house was contaminated. You came over with an entire case of soup, several loaves of bread, and the entire block of cheese from the deli. The only thing I could stomach was tomato soup and grilled cheese."

She cuts in saying, "Mono? The kissing disease. Yeah, I'll never forget. Is it safe to assume Zach got it from some girl he was cheating on me with?"

Oops. Not where I meant for her to go with that. "I take it white tulips aren't going to grant me forgiveness."

She's silent.

"What can I do?" I ask, willing to do anything.

The line remains quiet and I imagine her scowling, which is pretty damn cute... and scary. She's drop dead gorgeous with a strong jawline, full lips, that fucking dimple, and dark brown eyes that sparkle, under eyebrows that can slay a man with even the slightest lift. She's sweet and fierce, and I've never, not in all of the countries I've been to, met a woman like her.

"Carrick, I want you to leave me alone," she says in a surprisingly small voice, either that or she held the phone away from her because she really does detest me and can't think of anything that would grant me mercy.

I swallow hard. "If that's what you want, I'll leave you alone but only if you agree to get together with me for real just once-not like brunch-"

"I was sick."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just-" want you to let me apologize properly, show you how I feel, and allow me to show you how amazing you are.

"Just what, Carrick?" she asks.

"I want to talk."

She guffaws. "Talk? You want to talk? Didn't we do that once, all night if I recall-"

"I've changed."

"How nice for you. And so have I. I'm not the girl you remember: eager, waiting, nave..."

"You were never that girl. I would argue that you're intelligent, persevering, beautiful..."

She exhales loudly. I would give anything to feel her breath against my skin. "What do you want from me?"

Everything.

"Because you know what, Carrick Kennely, whatever you think you're looking for? I don't have it and if I ever did, you already took it." Her voice cracks at the last words.

"I don't mean to upset you. That isn't what I want at all. I-"

"Then what do you want, dammit?"

"I told you, I just want to talk. To tell you the truth, I can't live with-"

"It's always all about you, huh?"

"That's not what I meant. Please, Navy, just meet me and then if you want, I'll-"

"Leave me alone?"

"If that's what you want."

"I'm not inclined to give into this kind of ultimatum, but if it means you'll lose my phone number, forget what I look like, and that I never have to see you again, fine."

The desolate pause pushes me into thinking about how empty life would be without her, without hope of somehow reconciling. "Are you eating the soup?"

"Yes."

"Is it good?"

"As far as tomato soup goes, it's mediocre."

"I owe you a grilled cheese."