Page 155 of Sparks Fly

That sentence wrecked me more than anything else had.

“It’s just so much more than that, Lil.” I pressed my lips together, but the tears came anyway. “I feel like I’ve been cosplaying my whole life, like I’ve been playing the version of myself everyone expects. Well, that my Mom expects. But, with Sawyer, it’s the first time I don’t feel like I’m performing.”

Lilly’s eyes shone. “That’s what you deserve.”

I shook my head slowly. “I’m so in love with her,” I whispered. “And I was terrified that bringing her into my world would ruin it. Or ruin us.”

Lilly squeezed my hands again. “Does she love you?”

“Yes.”

“Does she treat you well?”

“She does.”

“Then I already adore her.”

My throat tightened. “You don’t even know her.”

“I don’t need to yet. You’re telling me you’re happy. That’s enough for me.”

Relief moved through me so strongly it almost hurt.

Lilly leaned back slightly. “So,” she said lightly. “Sawyer.”

I laughed softly. “Yeah?”

“She’s coming to the wedding. She’s sitting with us, she’s dancing with you, and if anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me.”

I stared at her. “You’re sure?”

Her expression softened. “Addison, you’re my best friend, I want you to be happy. That’s the whole list.”

Something inside my chest finally unclenched. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Lilly smiled. “Always.”

I felt so much relief in that moment. I had been so afraid that telling her would shatter my world.

It didn’t.

It made it bigger.

* * *

43

Addison

Thursday night I kept checking the mirror like it was going to tell on me.

Not because I didn’t know what I looked like. I did. Hair down, simple black top, jeans that fit, the version of myself I always chose when I wanted to feel normal. But my face looked different somehow, like it was holding something new, like my mouth didn’t know how to relax without bracing for the next question.

Sawyer was stretched out on the couch with her sling still on, one leg extended, the other bent, watching me pace between the bedroom and the kitchen like I was trying to wear a groove into the floor.

“Addie,” she said finally, her voice low and tired, “come here.”

“I’m fine,” I lied automatically as I smoothed the hem of my shirt for the tenth time.