COLEEN
There are two types of best friends.
The first kind brings you soup when you're sick, offers gentle advice when you’re heartbroken, and gives you quiet comfort when the world feels too loud.
The second kind bursts into your room at 9 a.m. the morning after a very important hockey game win, yelling, “The only reason why you would be blushing like the cat that got the cream is if you were thinking about Hayden and I can bet my first kid that I’m so right!”
Mark, unfortunately, was the second kind. Don’t get it twisted he was also very good at offering words of comfort and encouragement but this was his specialty.
I groaned into my pillow. “Get out, Mark. I don’t want to see you,” I said.
“Nope.” His voice was far too energetic for this ungodly hour. “Not until you spill. As your
