Emmie bent over the hibachi inhaling a deep breath of smoke, somehow without coughing up a lung in the process.

"There's no way that's good for your pores." A heat wave washed over my skin causing beads of sweat to blossom along my neck and chest. I swiped with the back of my hand and grimaced. "Couldn't we have done this for dinner?" I grumbled.

Emmie looked back at me, her hair flicked over one shoulder like she walked straight out of a shampoo commercial. "Aren't you the one that has somewhere to go later?"

"I'm not opposed to canceling on other people if it means not having to sit outside while it's eighty-five degrees." I crossed my arms. "Please make sure you cook all of the zucchini this time."

Anthony walked through the front door at that moment carrying a tray full of meat.

"I feel like the only reason you come over anymore is to eat all of our zucchini."

"Why else would I see you?"

He flicked a piece of my hair into my face. Emmie made space for him in front of the hibachi, the obligatory green bottle of beer already placed on the side.

"Didn't you once tell me you were gonna go vegan?" Emmie asked.

He lifted the bottle to his lips. "That never panned out."

"You should try it," she said, her voice void of judgment. She'd watched a documentary the other week about the effects the meat and dairy industry had on the environment and wanted to incorporate the diet into her lifestyle more. Somehow, she managed to rope me into committing with her. "They have so many more meat alternatives now, I don't think you'd miss it for a few days of the week."

Anthony looked like he'd rather do anything else, but reconsidered after a second thought. "Maybe Kaioh will be down."

"Kaioh?" She exchanged a surprised look with me.

"He says they've only been dating for a couple of months so it's not serious, but I specifically remember eavesdropping on a conversation right after New Year so I know he's full of shit."

Anthony glared at me. "I don't butt in on your personal life."

"That's because I'm smart enough to not get drunk and talk on the phone with my boyfriend while I'm on the patio. You realize the entire house can hear you when you're being loud and obnoxious?"

"You're right; you don't have that problem because you don't have boyfriends."

Our dad made a bunch of unintelligible noises, snapping his fingers at us.

"So when are you bringing him over to meet us?" I asked.

Anthony rolled his lips in concentration. "I'm not trying to jinx it this early."

"It's been six months."

"Exactly. You're gonna scare him off."

Dad turned around, clicking his tongue at my brother. "Stop picking on your sister. She'll never come over again."

"Fine," my brother huffed. "But only because your best friend brought us beer."

Emmie flaunted her infectious smile, proudly wearing the unofficial daughter badge of honor. "It's the least I can do when you're all cooking me food."

"All?" My dad chuckled. "I think you mean us two."

The three of them looked over at me while I held the pan to collect the food once it was done. They just didn't realize how difficult of a task it was to not devour everything as soon as it hit the pan. I had the most important job in the group.

"We'll fix the salad," Emmie volunteered. She stepped over the slippers scattered around, reaching out with her hand to clasp my arm to drag me along.

"You're gonna be the only one eating it," I scoffed as soon as the door shut behind us.

"He seems happier today," she commented while tearing pieces of lettuce apart.

"I'm trying not to get too comfortable in case it doesn't last. Anthony and I haven't looked into who he could see or what else we could do for him."

"You can do both." Her eyes flickered up to me for a brief moment before returning to her task at hand. "Be happy. It doesn't have to be one or the other."

I exhaled a deep breath. "Yeah, you're right. My pessimism can chill for a bit."

She smiled at me for encouragement. "My dad said he wants to call your dad soon so they can go golfing again."

"My dad is terrible at golf. Did he not learn his lesson the last time he asked my dad?"

Emmie flicked her hand dismissively. "You know he doesn't care about how good he is. My dad just likes spending time with yours."

I couldn't argue. It would be good for him to get out of the house for something other than work. Emmie's dad was one of the few people I could even consider his friend. After my mother left, not many of them stayed around to keep him company in the wake of his heartbreak.

"Fine," I begrudgingly agreed. "But tell him he needs to rethink letting my dad drive the golf cart because he told me he almost drove it into the pond last time."

Emmie tightened her mouth in an attempt to shield herself from laughing. "I'll make a suggestion."

Some time passed as we let the music playing from the patio fill the space between us while we worked on the salad. We worked together with ease—stepping aside before the other passed, or dumping a pinch of salt after the other sprinkled a dash of pepper.

As our progress continued, I built up the courage to confront her about something that had been bothering me. The conversation was long overdue, and I wasn't sure if having it right before we had lunch with my family was appropriate timing, but it'd been lingering in the back of my mind long enough that I knew it would boil over if I didn't stop it.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"I know we avoid talking about him but I have to ask. Are you still okay with me being friends with Zach?"

It was strange to feel unprepared to have any conversation with my best friend, as there was no topic off-limits when it came to our friendship, but this was a sore subject that required some care.

Her face tightened at the mention of his name, though she braved holding eye contact with me. If only she'd known how much she conveyed with a simple look, she'd realize just how much she proved it bothered her to some degree. It made her response hit harder because I felt guilty I didn't believe her when she said it.

"Of course. I'm happy you two are friends." She glanced down at the salad, tearing more pieces apart that didn't need to be smaller. "He's been a big help with letting you stay over while you've been working through things at home. And helping you find your new place and move into it."

"You're explaining why you think he's a good friend to me, not whether or not it affects us."

It came out significantly harsher than I meant for it to. I had nothing to lose as I'd been the one maintaining the same friendships I had before the breakup. Emmie was the one coming to terms with the loss.

It would be easy for me to say they'd been struggling long before endings were official, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. If she had any qualms about our friendship and having to talk about him, I wanted to respect that.

"I know it's not easy and you're making an effort to be okay with it," I said, aware of the fact that she'd attempted to discuss things to some degree when we were at the carnival a couple of months ago but had been turned down, "but I don't need you to tiptoe around me. Just tell me if something is bothering you and I'll do whatever I can to fix it."

"I swear I'm fine. It's not like I've done anything to make you think that I'm not okay with you two being friends."

"Besides the whole fact that you weren't the one to tell me when you two broke up?"

It was incredibly frustrating how quickly things could change. How we could laugh one minute and in the next feel like we were on opposing sides of the battlefield. Even more frustrating was my inability to determine if I was just as much an enabler in these kinds of conversations. But how was I supposed to know if I was stepping on any toes if she didn't tell me how she felt? Clearly from her body language, the conversation wasn't appealing, but at some point, we had to hash out these unresolved feelings.

"I'm not trying to back you into a corner or make you feel like you have to tell me everything before anyone else," I continued, "but when I'm suddenly not the first person you go to for something like that, it feels like you're harboring negative feelings toward me."

Emmie stopped the charade and let the lettuce leaves fall back onto the cutting board. "What was I supposed to do? Call you when I know you'd probably be sitting right next to him having dinner?"

"Yes. We were friends first. I would've come over as soon as you called."

Instead, she'd watched my calls go to voicemail and begged Jem to reply to my texts as soon as I'd sent them.

"You're right." She leaned against the counter, resting her head between her hands. "I should've called. I wanted to call. You're always the first person I want to talk to about everything."

"Then why not?" I asked. "Just pick up the phone. It's that easy."

"That's easy for you to say but honestly, think about it from my perspective." Her tone switched and she was no longer trying to defend an act she'd been playing, but trying to convey feelings she knew I couldn't relate to. "You'd been living with him for months at that point. For me to just drop in and ask you to come over would feel like making you choose. And don't—" She pointed her finger at me as soon as my mouth opened. "Just because you tell me it's not forcing you to pick sides, doesn't mean it doesn't feel that way. Telling myself one thing and acting on it are two completely different things and I still don't know how to handle it."

It would be easy for someone on the outside to look at our situation and paint Emmie to be the villain forcing unnecessary conflict onto two innocent bystanders instead of accepting we could all be friends. But matters of the heart rarely went without conflict, and seeing her glance down in shame because she had as much emotional grip on this conversation as I did reminded me that it wasn't fair. There was no right or wrong in this situation, and that somehow made everything more difficult.

I walked around the counter and stood in front of her, forcing her to look at me. "How about this—we promise to tell each other everything, okay? If it starts to bother you, we'll talk it out and see what we can do. And if I'm hanging out with him, I won't hide or avoid saying his name so I don't feel like I'm sneaking around behind your back. Okay?"

Emmie could be a complicated girl that reacted too much to the rapidly beating heart of hers, but she loved like no other and I could never handle the idea of us growing apart over some guy, even if that guy was Zachariah.

"I know I didn't treat him the way he deserved," she spoke softly. "He's one of the greatest guys I know. And he was so good to me for far longer than he should've been."

I pressed a hand gently against her soft cheek, wiping away the lone tear. "Sometimes our idea of great doesn't match with what we need. Some people don't fit together for the long run and we have no idea why but that's okay. Not everything needs to make sense. I think when you meet the right guy, you'll never have to tell yourself to treat them better."

"You're right," she said for the second time that night. "You're always right."

I shook my head. "I'm not, but I'll always be here for you through right or wrong, and we'll figure it out together."