47. Paige
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Paige
Ryan disappears from the wedding, leaving me in shambles.
My chest yearns to run after him, but my feet stay rooted firmly in place for God knows how long.
Shoulders shaking, I try to pull myself together, even though he turned me inside out.
My skin suddenly feels exposed, as if I’m standing naked in front of a crowd, and I know the feeling very well. It’s vulnerability.
The urge to run away from it lights a fire under me, though a part of me is gravely aware there’s no way to escape. Still, I rub my fingers under my eyes, take a deep, shaky breath, and head back to the wedding.
With razor-sharp focus, I grab my purse before spotting the newlyweds. Perfect. I need to politely excuse myself, and then I can go home. Where I can fall apart in peace.
“Kim, Dad… the wedding was beautiful, but I think I’ll head home now.”
Kim’s mouth drops. “Are you feeling okay? How are you getting home?”
“I’m fine, thank you. Just tired. And I’ll grab a rideshare, don’t worry.”
Dad’s narrowed eyes gaze at me with suspicion, so I rush to make my exit. “Once again, congrats.”
They both hug me but luckily let me go. On my way out, I notice Emma and Jordan still tearing up the dance floor, and my heart squeezes in my chest. I’d kill for a hug right now, but answering a single question would be enough to make my facade collapse like a house of cards.
I wake with a head-splitting headache, which instantly reminds me of Ryan.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think it’s the result of a hangover, but the few drinks I had have nothing on the hours of crying afterward.
The sun came up before I could fall asleep, hugging that damn envelope close to my chest.
I extract the boarding pass once again, surprised the ink is still showing after being run through my fingers so many times.
My hand feels for my phone, finding it dead. I guess I’ve read through our texts one too many times for my battery to handle.
Just when I connect it to the charger on my nightstand, my doorbell rings. I zombie-walk to the front door, afraid to think about who it could be.
My heart pumps faster, remembering the last time the doorbell rang while I was feeling this shitty.
I found Ryan on the other side, and while the whole thing was mortifying, it led to plenty of wonderful memories.
I look vastly worse today because there’s not a hangover in the world that can ruin you as much as heartbreak.
Maybe the person at my door will give up if I pretend I’m not home.
“Paige, open up! I know you’re in there,” Jordan’s voice booms out, and my plan crumbles.
I open the door, finding Emma, Jordan, and a box of ice cream so big it deserves its own mention on the other side. Even though I knew it’s them, from the sound of Jordan’s voice, my chest still deflates not finding Ryan’s stupid, grinning face.
With a sigh, I turn and head toward my living room, the two of them following me.
“Want to tell us where you ran off to last night?” Jordan asks.
“Here,” I deadpan, dropping onto the couch. I might be a horrible host, but they’re hardly guests.
Emma enters the kitchen and returns with three spoons. “We figured as much, but we want to know why.”
“Oh, you do, don’t you? The little yappers want more information about me so they can spread it around town. Traitors,” I spit out, but it lacks bite.
“Sorry, but it was for your own good.” Jordan stares me down.
“Says who? You?” I purse my lips.
“Yes, me. The person who’s known you for literally ever.”
“Pfft. You can’t always play the twin card.”
“Fine.” She lifts her hands in surrender.
“You know I cried yesterday? I cried seeing our dad getting married to someone who actually loves him. Just a few weeks ago, I wanted to do stupid shit to break off the wedding. Do you know who knew better?” I open my mouth to respond, but she’s quicker.
“You did. And do you know who knows better now? I do.”
“Cool, but it was my choice whether I wanted to share the story.” I press a finger to my sternum. “Since you forgot about that, you don’t get to hear anything else about me. Sister privileges revoked.”
Emma shifts her gaze from one to the other, as if she’s watching a tennis match.
“Oh, no. How will I ever survive without you telling me about the sex life of your plants?” Jordan’s mocking tone grates on the very last of my nerves.
“It’s called propagating, you animal. Plants can’t have sex.”
“Big difference. Newflash, Paige. The life you’ve been living doesn’t have any news to share.”
“Yeah? So I guess you wouldn’t want to know that Ryan invited me to spend a month in Peru with him? Got me a ticket and everything.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, but the smug look on my face disappears as soon as I notice their excited expressions. “Shit.”
“Are you kidding me?” Emma practically squeals out. “Peru is your dream. So romantic.” She presses a hand to her chest, literal hearts popping out of her eyes.
My gaze drops to my fingers, fidgeting in my lap.
“You’re not going, are you?” Jordan asks, her voice void of previous teasing.
My shoulders shrug, my eyes now studying the hem of my shorts.
“Open that ice cream, Ems, will you?” Jordan tells her wife and Emma pulls the lid off the ice cream box.
“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m being stupid and that I have to go with him?” My brow lowers as I glance up at her.
“I don’t think I will, Paige. To be honest, I think Ryan deserves more than for me to force you into that decision.”
Her words hit me like a slap in the face. “It’s not…”
“Do you love him?” Emma asks.
“You know it’s not about that,” I respond, as tears start forming in my eyes.
“Isn’t it?” Jordan grabs a spoon of ice cream and pops it into her mouth. Then she slaps both of her thighs and gets up from the couch. “I think you need some time to think. Let us know if you need our help.”
With that, they leave me to mull over my thoughts.
I’ve been so hellbent on not being destined for love that I haven’t even considered it a possibility.
But is it true? Do I love him? A shiver runs through me at the sheer memory of that ghost of a kiss last night.
My body loves him, that’s for sure. My head thinks about him all the time.
What about my heart? Are there even enough pieces left to be able to love?
I sneak another peek at the boarding pass, my dad’s words flashing through my mind. Living and loving and getting hurt is so much better than not living and loving at all. If he found the right person after so many wrong ones, could Ryan actually be mine?
Instead of trying to organize my thoughts, I do what I’ve done since I learned how to properly hold a pencil—I sit down and write.