Chapter 37
When I arrive home, Alice is cooking hamburger patties while Emily prepares a Caesar salad. They’re laughing and singing along with Taylor Swift until I close the front door. Someone cuts the music, and the apartment becomes uncomfortably quiet.
“Sorry…” I say, rounding the kitchen table to see them past the wall. “I’ll be in my room. Continue your date.” I offer an awkward smile and turn toward the hallway.
“Wait,” Emily says. I stop and glance over my shoulder.
“You two need to work this out.” She gestures between Alice and me.
“Best friends shouldn’t give each other cold shoulders.
That’s how I lost mine, and I wish someone would’ve told me to kill my stupid pride and just talk to her.
Maybe we’d still be friends.” Emily lifts a shoulder as hurt etches across her face.
Emily grabs a paper towel off the roll and wipes her hands on it, stepping out of our mini kitchen. “The salad is finished. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She kisses a stunned Alice on the lips.
The kiss snaps Alice back to life. “Babe, you don’t need to go. We can—”
“It’s okay. I’m not watching a friendship explode if I can help it.”
Alice nods, giving in. They kiss again, more passionately. Alice squeezes Emily’s ass. “See you later.”
Emily offers me a wave and walks out the door.
Alice turns her attention to the hamburger patties, flipping them and adding pepper.
“Well,” I say, rocking back and forth on my feet. “Guess we should address the elephant in the room.”
Alice lifts her gaze and then glues them to the burgers, adding too much salt. “You mean my stuffed elephant, Blueberry?”
That was a curveball I didn’t see coming.
“Umm…what?” I say, a laugh slips from my lips.
She gestures behind me. I turn to see a little stuffed elephant on the kitchen table. “Ah. He’s cute. From Emily?”
“Yeah. She won him from a claw machine at The Rainbow Pony.”
An awkward silence threatens to take over. I sigh, pouring my heart out. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I know it’s not your fault…” I take a breath while digging tickets out of my purse. “And I got you something to make up for it.”
She walks over and accepts the tickets. Her eyes widen when she reads “Mean Girls” written in bold on the top. “Oh my God! You didn’t have to but thank you!” She crushes me in a hug. “All’s forgiven and forgotten. Okay? I’m not losing my BFF over this crap.”
I hug her back. “Good. Because I need you.”
She pulls away and brushes my hair from my face to meet my gaze. “What happened?”
“So much. Do you want me to start with me answering the phone, thinking it was you, but it was Sully, or how my evil ex ambushed me?”
“At the same time?” Her eyes widen in horror.
“No. But it’s been a hell of a long day.”
She guides me to the kitchen table. We sit. “Spill. Start with Sully.”
She nods as I tell her about the aquarium date, the romance of it all, even the sex. Down to us lying in bed planning our little getaways between his European shows. Until he had to go.
“Wow. The aquarium was…” She makes a chef’s kiss motion. “But of course, that spoiled bitch had to ruin it.” She shakes her head. “Now what happened with that assface ex of yours?”
“He ambushed me at the beach,” I sigh, shuddering as I remember. “Claimed he loved me and that leaving was a mistake, blah blah.”
“That rat bastard. Do you want me to gut him?”
“You haven’t heard the worst part. He’s been following me. Lurking around our apartment parking lot. Even showed me a dimly lit picture of Sully and Gigi and said he was cheating on me.”
“What the hell!” She stands, pacing the floor.
“I told him off.” I shift my weight uncomfortably. “He’s not worth thinking about.”
Alice takes my hand and squeezes it. “Veronica. You’re special. Don’t let anyone dim your shine. Not that asshat ex or even Sully.”
“I know. But I—”
The smoke alarm goes off. Alice leaps to her feet. “Crap!” She turns off the burner and rinses the pan in the sink, but it’s too late. The burgers are charred pieces of meat.
She chuckles nervously. “How about we order in?”
I laugh, grabbing my phone. “Sounds good.”
It’s seven in the morning, and still no word from Sully.
A heavy, twisting knot settles in my stomach.
I can’t shake the thought that something terrible might have happened.
If he’d been in a car accident or rushed to the hospital, no one from his world would bother to let me know.
Well—maybe Charlotte would, if it was serious.
But even that feels like a long shot. I searched his name online, but nothing came up.
“Do you want to drive to his place?” Alice asks, sliding two blueberry pop-tarts into the toaster.
I glance at her and stop paying attention to the orange juice I’m pouring into a glass. “I’m sorry, did I just have a mini-stroke?”
“Watch it,” Alice says, pointing.
The juice overflows. I rush to grab paper towels and mop up the table. “Did you really suggest driving to his place?”
She inspects her fingernails. “It's suspicious you haven’t heard a thing from him. Based on his history, he usually replies with something.”
I nod, sipping my juice. “I hope Gigi isn’t there because I’m going to throw up.”
The pop-tarts pop up, and Alice wraps them in paper towels. “Let’s go.”
I drive to the hotel, and as we drive down the road going around to the private casitas, there’s a roadblock ahead and a man dressed in black slacks and a red coat with the hotel’s logo in gold on his chest.
He walks over, and I roll the window down.
“Hello,” he says, leaning in and looking at Alice and me. “Are you two guests?”
“No. We’re here to visit a guest. His name is Sully Graham.”
“We have no guests currently staying in the casitas. The last guest checked out this morning, and he gave me a note to give to someone.” The man checks all his pockets and finds an envelope. “What’s your name?”
“Veronica Gates.”
He nods, offering me the envelope. “He left this for you. You can turn around if you pull forward into the dirt. Have a nice day.”
I drive to the front of the hotel and park the car in the back of the parking lot, where the parking agents can’t see us or bother us about not having reservations.
“You open it.” I shove the envelope at Alice.
She opens it and unfolds the letter inside. First, she reads it to herself. Part of me wants to rip it from her hands and read it myself. The other part wants to go home and draw a warm bath and hide underneath all the bubbles.
“It’s short,” she says, after what feels like an hour.
“Dear Veronica. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you this in person or by phone.
My team forced me to move to the house in Beverly Hills with the rest of the band late last night.
Claims it will keep me on track. I owe you dinner.
Please forgive me. I’ll make this up to you. I promise. Love, Sully.”
Alice folds the letter and shoves it back into the envelope. “Well, then…”
I shift into drive and put as much distance between us and the hotel as possible. I press my foot on the pedal and drive, no destination in mind. Alice shrieks and shouts, “Watch out!”
My vision sharpens just in time to realize I’m in the wrong lane—and a truck is barreling straight toward us.
I swerve hard, jerking the wheel and veering into a grocery store parking lot.
Tires squeal as I throw the car into park.
We’re both breathing heavily, my chest heaving, and my hair is damp with sweat.
“Can I drive?” Alice asks, clicking her seat belt off.
“Yeah. That’s a good idea.”
Alice walks around the car, and I hop over the center console into the passenger’s seat.
That night, I throw myself into work. My show doesn’t suffer, but I’m not as happy or as bubbly as I usually am. For the first time, I decline a meet and greet, which is okay since there aren’t too many kids tonight.
Arthur carries me into the break room, and when he sets me on the bench, he asks, “Why the long face?”
I run my hand over my tail, admiring the pattern of purple and pink to avoid his searching gaze. “Just having an off day.”
“It’s because of that rock star, isn’t it?”
“You can say that.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” I flop my fins on the floor. “Not really.”
He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Okay. I’ll leave so you can change.”
I watch him retreat.
Against my better judgment, I check Insta and go to Sully’s page.
He’s tagged in three new pictures with Gigi.
I flip through them. They were posted two hours ago at some fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills.
In the first picture, Gigi’s smile sparkles and Sully looks at the camera stone-faced like always.
But his hand rests on her hip. In the second, Gigi offers a spoonful of cheesecake to Sully, and he leans forward, mouth wide open to accept it.
The final blow that forces me to drop my phone and screw my eyes closed is Sully and Gigi standing outside the restaurant by a wall with string lights, as her arms snake around Sully’s neck, and her left leg is popped up behind her as she kisses him.
He has his hands on her waist and his eyes closed as if he’s enjoying their intimate kiss.
The comments are blowing up. Already gushing about how they’re meant to be.
I lean forward. My hands slide over my tail as my head rests where my knees are to keep from heaving. Was Teddy right? That fucking bastard.
Alice walks in and falls to my side, rubbing my back in gentle circles. “What’s wrong?”
“Check phone,” I mumble, whisking away hot tears with my wrist.
She opens my phone and sees the pictures. “That prick,” she hisses.
There are no words. I’m empty. Completely hollow inside. Right now, I need my best friend to keep me from crumbling into a million pieces on the floor.
“You want to get out of here?” she asks.
“Mmm.” I nod, wiping my hands on my tail. “Crap. I still haven’t changed.”
“Let me help you, and then we’ll do whatever you want.”
“Emily won’t be mad? I thought you two had plans.”
She shakes her head. “No. I’ll send her a text. She understands when a BFF is needed.”
Alice grabs my fins, tugs my tail off my hips, and hands me my clothes.
I change, despite the numbness in my limbs.
She treats me to Mexican food for dinner and a slasher movie.
She tries to cheer me up, but I can’t crack a smile.
My face has turned to marble. My heart freezes in place.
There’s a block of ice where it once was, and no one will stop the blizzard roaring in my soul.
They say the third time is the charm. But for me, there will never be a third time falling for someone. It’s too late. I’m already dead inside.