The Difference Between Getting and Needing

f o u r t e e n

A screw inside me sprung loose, as did all hell.

"I-I can't even talk to you about this," I stammered out, backing away from the sink because there were too many sharp objects within arm's reach. "You literally have no concept on anything besides yourself and your wedding. Like, do you have any idea of what you've put me, and everyone else, involved in this shit show through? Nobody's said it because God forbid someone else talks besides you, but we're all-" I emphasized my point by waving my hands around in circular motions, "-just as fucking stressed about this as you are. I know this is supposed to be an exciting time for you, but damnit, it is not for the rest of us. It's a wedding, Sutton. Across the country. For you, of all people."

I was out of breath by the time my tirade was over. Sutton was looking at me exactly as I was looking at her earlier when she first apologized. Her threaded eyebrows were halfway up her forehead with only one crease in the skin, thanks to Botox. Glossy lips parted like she wanted to say something, but had no clue where to start.

We'd had uglier disputes before. This didn't even come close to the worst of the worse for us. It was a minuscule scratch on the surface of our relationship compared to the time I accidentally told her boyfriend in high school that she stuffed her bra. Or the time she accidentally sold my Barbie collection at our town yard sale almost fifteen years ago for two dollars.

This was nothing. But it was also everything to Sutton, so her reaction surprised me.

She nixed the silence by releasing a breath I could tell she was holding in. Then she brushed a nonexistent hair out of her face. Her eyes seemed like they were stuck on my western belt buckle around the waist of my jeans.

It was entirely out of character for her. I was thinking there would be a replay of what happened at her "Bon Voyage" party. This was a calm, mature version of Sutton and I couldn't ever recall seeing this side of her.

"I didn't know you felt that way," she hoarsely said.

I could have said more – a lot more – but I didn't want to ruin Thanksgiving forever. I still liked the holiday, and I didn't want it to be known as the day I completely lost my mind.

"I'm tired," I forced the word through my teeth with the clenching of my fists. Sutton saw the gesture and blinked at me a few times. "I'm tired of being walked on and I'm tired of saying yes to everything, but it's not gonna change. Just thought saying it out loud might help. I've been trying to keep it together for so long and I don't know how much more I can handle. I hate that you have to hear this, but I honestly cannot wait until this wedding shit is over."

Something in her gaze shifted, though I wasn't sure what. It looked like she wanted to hug me but there was an invisible barrier between us stopping her. Like she was holding back tears.

"I um... I'm sorry. I know I'm not an easy person to work with."

"I mean, you can be a bit of a..."

"A psycho-bitch?" Sutton finished my sentence for me, one side of her mouth lifting at Valerie's term for my behavior during the infamous bachelorette weekend. My grimace told her she was right, and she laughed. "I took a lot out on you at the party and I shouldn't have done that. It was really immature of me. Definitely not great wife material."

I had to snort at the last line. The idea of Sutton being a married woman still seemed so surreal to me. No one thought Sutton Barclay, the greatest enigma to live, would ever find someone that would be able to tie down her wayward strings. If there was any real proof that soulmates existed, it was her and Koa.

This wasn't the end. I knew there would be another Sutton-related dilemma soon enough. I'd be to blame, she'd give me hell for it, and then we'd be back to normal again. For the time being, I just had to accept her apology so I could move on with my life.