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Something lands on the hood of the car.

Sid. On the frost, in the middle of the windshield, staring in at Lila with his ears flat and his tail down, and for the first time in thirteen days I hear the whole sentence.

She was sent. I have been trying to say that since the day I met you.

Lila flinches like the cat spoke out loud.

"He's always known," I say. "He's hissed at you since the first week. I told you he was rude."

"He is rude."

We both laugh but it’s pretty weak.

And that's the thing I’ll always remember about her. Even now. How she jokes back.

I don't know what to think anymore.

I have to ask. I know better and I'm going to do it anyway.

"Lila. Was any of it real?"

She turns her head and looks at me.

And my best friend doesn't say anything at all.

She's going to just sit there and not answer me until she goes blue in the face.

"Lila?"

"Ask me something I can answer."

"I guess that’s my answer."

"It isn't." She's got her hands back on the wheel in the parked car. "You'll take whatever I say and and pick it apart, and you'll have every right to. I'd rather give you information that you can check."

Fine.

"Then check this one." I turn in the seat. "Three years of telling me to date someone normal."

She closes her eyes.

"Stop obsessing about your neighbor, Maren. He's scary, Maren. Come stay at my place, Maren, we'll drink wine." My voice is very steady, which is how I know I'm losing it.

"Was that the job?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because a completed bond makes you harder to control." She says it fast, like ripping tape.

"Whatever they'd have offered you after that, you'd have had someone to help and support you while you thought about it. That's the whole reason. They didn't care who he was. They cared that you'd have someone to help you."

There it is. Three years of her being the only one who ever told me I deserved better, and it was nothing but inventory management.

"And the crying?" I ask. "Last Thursday. On my porch."

She opens her eyes.