My Fiancé Chose My Best Friend-At My Dad’s Funeral novel · Chapter 13 of 24

Chapter 13: The Friend

Alexander left at noon to get a suit for Monday, and Lenora knocked at four.

I knew it was her before I opened the door. She had always knocked in the same pattern, two fast and one slow.

She stood on the new step in a gray sweatshirt with her hair down and a bottle of red in her arm.

She wasn't wearing makeup. She looked nineteen.

"I'm not here to fight," Lenora said. "I brought the cheap kind. The kind we used to drink."

I should have shut the door.

I wanted to hear what she would say when she thought I was still hers, so I stepped back and let her in.

She walked into my father's kitchen and stopped at the counter. Her eyes went over the mugs in their rack.

She said nothing, and I was glad.

I took down two glasses and poured. I didn't drink mine.

"God, I'm sorry," Lenora said. She was already crying, with her hands flat on the counter. "I'm so sorry, Til. I keep opening my phone to text you and there's nobody on the other end."

"There's me."

"You know what I mean. The old you."

She told me about the sandwich counter, the one where we'd met. She told me about the winter we split a coat.

I let her talk.

It was good talk. She had always been the funniest person I knew, and she was funny even now, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

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