7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Lizzie
“S o, Lizzie girl, what are you working on today?”
I looked up at Grandma Cora, who’d walked into my bedroom and now stood peering over my shoulder as I typed away. “It’s that story we were brainstorming last week. The one about the awkward baker and the hunky captain? He just walked into her shop for the first time, and they crashed into one another.”
“Oooh, yes, that was a good one. So, tell me… what happens next?”
I laughed, now turning fully in my seat. “Like you don’t already know…”
“Wake up, Liz… you’ve got company.”
I opened my eyes barely a crack to see Ethan standing next to my bed—wearing his favorite Foo Fighters concert t-shirt, his tousled auburn hair sticking up in the back, identical in shade to my own—and, best of all, holding out a steaming cup of hot coffee.
I glanced at the time on the mint green, old-timey clock sitting on my nightstand— nine a.m. For a moment, I was confused why my twin brother was at my apartment so early.
Scratch that—Why was he here at all?
But then slowly, like maple syrup, the memories of the previous day began oozing over me in all of their sticky glory: my humiliating run-in with the rude stranger at the coffee shop; everything terrible that had happened at work; then my overzealous happy hour with Brooke, which every fiber of my hungover self was currently regretting.
And for the final pièce de résistance —catching my philandering asshole of a boyfriend in the act, concluded by vomiting five fingers’ worth of brandy all over his precious vintage rug.
Hours later, I could still hear his words on repeat: "There you go again, Elizabeth…"
Indeed.
After storming out of Randall’s place with my bottle of wine and tiny remnants of pride, only to realize I had no way home, I did the only logical thing my shell-shocked/half-tipsy brain could manage: I called my very patient and understanding brother to come to my rescue.
If the entirety of it all—and the aftermath—hadn't been so completely awful, I might’ve been more impressed with myself for even waking up this morning.
As it was, I gingerly lifted my head from my pillow, fairly certain it had been shot full of angry birds on a merry-go-round while I’d been sleeping. Groaning, I looked up at my brother.
“Please tell me time travel exists, so I can go back and redo the last twenty-seven hours.”
Ethan shook his head, not bothering to hold back his smile. “Sorry, Sis… as much as I wish that were true, I’m afraid you’re stuck here with me here in the present time. But, hey… at least reality comes with fresh coffee?”
I rubbed my temples as he handed me the mug, flashing a quick, grateful smile before taking my first sip. “Did you really stay here all night?”
He shrugged. “Yeah… I slept on the sofa. I was worried about you.”
“You know you’re the best brother ever, right?”
“Just consider us even, since you covered my ass last week when I couldn’t find my car keys,” he said, smiling. Then his face grew serious. “Speaking of asses, you know I’m going to kick Price’s, right?”
Hearing his name once again triggered my stupid, traitorous tear ducts—though this time, I had no idea if the culprit was anger, humiliation, or heartbreak. I couldn’t actually be crying over that man again, could I?
Ethan sat down next to me, wrapping an arm around my back to pull me against him, the way he always had. Even now as adults, our bond was strong, closely resembling each other in so many ways—except for our seven-inch height difference.
I rested my head in the comfortable nook of his shoulder, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear that had escaped down my cheek. “Sorry, Liz. I don’t know everything that went down between the two of you, but I never trusted the guy. And you deserve way better than what you got. So next time I see him, I promise—his ass is mine.”
Lifting my head, I managed a weak smile at the idea of my brother and my ex in a fight—mostly because I knew without a doubt who the winner would be. “Thanks. Randall will never know what hit him.” As he stood up again, I shifted my butt towards the side of the bed to do the same. “Anyway… I should probably shower or something.” Taking another quick sip of coffee, it suddenly clicked that my brother had served it up in my favorite mug, a gift from Randall—covered in classic literature quotes, with a curved pencil for a handle.
Now the coffee tasted like things I’d rather forget—like the memory of me screaming, “Number two pencil dick!” at my ex as my love life imploded.
Looking up at my brother, I handed the mug back to him. “Actually… I know this is completely irrational… but can you please pour my coffee into a different mug? And then chuck this one in the trash?”
One of the many great things about our relationship was that Ethan didn’t even question it—just shrugged as he grabbed the mug, turning back towards the kitchen as he called out over his shoulder. “Anyway, a shower isn’t a bad idea… because Brooke just showed up.”
“She’s here? Why?”
“I guess you were sending texts to the Dearies all night, and she was worried… but why don’t you ask her yourself?” his voice filtered in from the kitchen.
My eyes darted over to my phone, still laying on the bed. Oh, boy.
“Morning, Sunshine!” Brooke’s head popped around the corner, just as I was settling back onto my bed, phone in hand, to review the damage from last night. It was annoying, really, how my friend could out-drink me two to one—yet still manage to look chic and refreshed the next morning, like a sporty, blonde Audrey Hepburn in her black athleisure outfit.
Meanwhile—after a quick glance in the mirror—I more closely resembled the Lorax .
If I didn’t love her so much, I’d be forced to hate her.
She sat down beside me, brushing the wildness of my hair back from my face as she wrinkled her nose. Grabbing a tissue from my nightstand, she began wiping at the streaks of makeup that remained around my eyes. “So, before I ask what the hell happened last night, go ahead and get yourself caught up there first.”
With a sigh, I began scrolling through my messages.
Friday, 11:30 p.m.
LIZZIE: MEN SUCK.
TESS: Agreed.
KAIT: I thought we’d already decided this?
LENA: Wait, did I miss something here?
TESS: Possibly. Far as I know, men have been sucking since the beginning of time.
KAIT: Just not the way we want them to. HAHA
INDI: No, I’m with Lena. Lizzie… What’s up, sweetie?
LIZZIE: I barfed all over Randall’s rug.
KAIT: Ummm… is this code for something? Some new-fangled sex act you city girls dreamed up?
LIZZIE: No. I literally barfed. Right after he pulled his dick out of the girl he’s apparently been banging behind my back.
KAIT: Jesus, way to bury the lede, Blake.
INDI: Wait, are you serious?
LIZZIE: :(
LENA: Oh, sweetie… I’m so sorry. 3 What can we do?
KAIT: Grrr…. I knew that guy was an asshat. We’re gonna kill him, Lizzie. Don’t you worry.
INDI: Lizzie. Where r u now?
TESS: I’ll send an Uber. What’s the address?
LIZZIE: E picked me up. I’m home now…never leaving my bed ever again. Way too many old drinkies with Brookie. Worst. day. ever.
INDI: Ok, good. Stay there. We’ve got you.
LIZZIE: fml
KAIT: No, fuck RANDALL and his dick. I hope he wakes up covered in scabies.
INDI: Ok, I’ve treated scabies…dick scabies are disgusting.
KAIT: Even better. But seriously get some rest, ok, Lizzie? Love u, hon.
LENA: You can tell us all about it tomorrow. 3 3
Saturday, 1:30 a.m.
JULES: Omg, just left the premiere. WTH happened? #dickscabiesforever
JULES: Wait, nvm. You’re probably all asleep by now. Stupid time difference. I miss everything. Are you ok??
KAIT: Just closing bar, but I’m hoping our girl’s asleep. We’ll strategize the man whore’s demise tomorrow.
JULES: Ok, count me in. Love you, Lizzie. 3
Saturday, 7:30 a.m.
brOOKE: WTH, just waking up and reading through messages.
brOOKE: Fucking Randall… I’m gonna break his scabies-covered dick.
brOOKE: Don’t worry, girls… won’t actually break his dick. But I’m headed over to Lizzie’s tout de suite.
INDI: Ok… PLEASE keep us posted. Love you both.
Before I could say a word, Ethan walked around the corner. “Hey, now that Brooke’s here, I’m gonna get going. I… have something I need to get to.”
I looked at him curiously. “At nine a.m. on a Saturday morning?”
Ethan averted his eyes, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, I’m meeting someone in an hour to go biking.”
“Who, Andy?” Andy was my brother’s roommate—kinda awkward, but sweet. I’d always liked the guy.
“No. It’s… a date, actually. Sorry.” He looked embarrassed. “Crappy timing, I know.”
I gave my brother a weak smile. “No… just because my life is stupid at the moment doesn’t mean yours is by extension. This is a good thing.” Reaching up, I pulled him into a hug. “I expect PG-details, ok? And I mean it… thank you again for last night.”
He returned the squeeze before releasing me. “Always, Liz. Oh, and don’t forget, Mariah flies in tomorrow afternoon. You can still pick her up from the airport, right? The meeting with the lawyer is at nine a.m. Monday.”
Ugh. For a moment, in all the chaos, I had forgotten. And I didn’t know if I had it in me to deal with both my sister and the settling of our family’s estates.
“Yeah, I’ve got it. I’ll do the pickup and make reservations for dinner tomorrow. Any preferences, or can I just book Amore Victoria?”
“Nope, sounds good to me. And Mariah can just deal with it.” He grinned, then held up a fist. “Wonder Twins Activate?”
I connected my fist with his, ending with our usual ‘pow-pow!’ . Then, with a wave, he left the room.
As I heard the front door shut behind him, I set down my phone with a sigh, flopping backwards onto my bed.
“You two are forever dorks. ” Brooke lay down beside me, snuggling in. “So, you wanna tell me about it?”
And so, I replayed for my friend everything that had happened during the hour or so after the two of us had parted ways last night—every painful, humiliating detail. Brooke patiently listened, gasping aloud at a few parts like the amazing friend that she was.
As we lay there talking, however, I realized I wasn’t feeling as heartbroken as I thought I’d be. Pissed off? Yes. Humiliated? Definitely.
But if I were being honest with myself, I knew Randall wasn’t the love of my life, even though I’d tried to convince myself that he was. On paper, it seemed like we’d be the perfect match—the aspiring author and her handsome, experienced Lit professor, showing her the way towards… what, exactly?
Even now, I had no idea how to finish that sentence. Other than, ‘The End’.
It had never been about ‘keeping me all to himself’ . He just didn’t want to advertise the fact that he was spending his time with an aimless thirty-year-old who had nothing impressive or interesting to add to his life beyond sex. Nor did he, apparently, want our relationship to cramp his style of man-whoring around Minneapolis.
It was hard not to feel gross, used… unworthy.
But more than anything—ashamed that I’d somehow turned a blind eye to every bit of it.
“Well, I officially hate him,” Brooke declared, sitting up. “And you, my dear, deserve so much better than that man.”
I hoisted myself up as well, shifting until we were facing each other. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“What?”
“Maybe the problem is me. Maybe my idea of love is… I don’t know… unrealistic.”
Brooke narrowed her eyes. “Stop that right now. I will not let that man destroy all the beautiful parts of my best friend.”
“I’m serious. Look at me—I’m thirty and still floundering. What the hell am I even doing?” I trailed off, twisting my hands in my lap.
“Lizzie, listen to me. I mean, truly listen. You. Are. Amazing. Even on your worst day. And don’t,” she pointed a stern finger towards me, “roll your eyes at me. You deserve to be loved completely, to be someone’s priority. And even to have the big, passionate love that you used to write about in your books. Randall’s problem was that he wasn’t worthy of you .” She pulled me into her arms, hugging me tight. “I love you, ok? And we’re all here for you. You’ll get through this. And there are much better dicks out there, just waiting for you. Even non-diseased ones.”
“Thwanks,” I mumbled, my face squished against her shoulder.
“Anytime. But… I gotta tell you something else.”
“What?”
She backed away, her nose wrinkling again. “Honey, you stink.”
I made a face. “Gee, thanks for being so sensitive in my hour of need.”
She giggled. “You’re welcome. Now, go take a shower; it’ll make you feel loads better. I’ll update the rest of our Dearies. Then you and I will grab brunch at that new place on the corner, so we can prepare you emotionally for your sister’s arrival and the lawyers on Monday. Deal?”
“Fine, bossy.”
Blowing me a kiss as she leaned back against my headboard and pulled out her phone, I gathered up my clothes and walked into my tiny bathroom.
As I stood in my shower, letting the hot water rain over me a few minutes later, I had to admit—I was starting to feel a little better.
I tried to wrap my head around everything that had gone down with Randall, and the part I had played in it all. Hard as it was to admit, I’d allowed myself to be treated that way.
Regardless, I was sick to death of playing the victim, not really believing I could have what I wanted—or holding myself back because I was so damn afraid of failing. It was time to make some changes—most of all, within me.
Now all I needed to figure out was how.