CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I cried the entire way home and I think I completely freaked my taxi driver out. He kept asking me if I was okay, but I couldn’t talk. I was incapable of forming words. Instead I curled up into a ball in the back seat. I wanted to make myself as small as possible, as if that would somehow prevent me from feeling so much searing, horrific pain.
When I got back to the apartment, I was dismayed to find Vella making out on the couch with Otis.
I just stared at them. I didn’t have enough emotional reserves left to even be upset with her for whatever was happening right then.
She took one look at my face and said to him, “Get out.”
“But I thought we were going to—”
“Out now,” she said.
Otis grumbled and got to his feet, shooting me a dirty look on his way out. He slammed the door shut.
“I thought you were done with him,” I said.
“That was like a goodbye make-out session.”
“How was he supposed to hear you say goodbye when you had his ear in your mouth?” I asked, grateful for this tiny distraction from the unbearable pain pressing down on my chest.
“Osmosis?”
But I was too defeated to argue with her that she didn’t understand how osmosis worked. Instead I dropped my bag and wearily took off my shoes. I went over to curl up on the couch next to her. To my surprise she grabbed the blanket and put it over me.
“Why do you look like a sad raccoon?” she asked. “And who do I need to stab?”
“I got fired tonight.” I quickly explained how that had happened.
“Then I quit in solidarity,” she said.
“Who are you going to call and tell that you quit?” It was the weekend; there wasn’t anyone at the office.
“No one.”
“Then how will they know?”
“They’ll figure it out pretty quickly when I don’t show up Monday morning. But I know that’s not why you’re this upset. What happened?”
The story of what Max had done tumbled out of me, but I told it robotically, because I was so exhausted that I couldn’t cry through it like I wanted to. I didn’t have anything left. My tear ducts had tapped out.
The ache in my throat and chest didn’t ease, though. Neither did the stabbing pain in my heart.
When I finished, Vella said, “He pretended to be from Monterra? Like that famous actor’s wife who pretended she was from Spain but she was just a basic girl from Boston? Is Max from Boston?”
“I don’t know where he’s from.” I wondered if everything he’d told me had been a lie. “This is why you couldn’t find anything about Max Colby online. He doesn’t exist.”
She took her phone out and did a search and made a squeaking sound. “Maximilian Wainscott is like private-jet-and-a-mansion-on-every-continent rich. There are so many photos of him online, so many stories on gossip sites. Wow.”
No wonder he’d never told me where he lived. This was probably why I hadn’t ever seen his apartment. Why he never gave me any details about his family. Max probably could have picked my mom and Meemaw out of a lineup, I had told him so much about them.
Why hadn’t I realized how many things he kept from me? I’d been so distracted by my love for him that I hadn’t even noticed.
“What do you want me to tell him when he comes here?” she asked.
“Why would you think he’d come here?”
“Because he’s in love with you, too.”
I shook my head, hard. “He can’t love me. He never would have lied to me if he did. And I told him to leave me alone. That I didn’t want to talk to him and that this was over.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I think he’ll stay clear for a little while, but he loves you too much to keep completely away from you. But I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself and a boundary that’s important to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everly of a month ago would have found a way to make this all okay. You wouldn’t have held Max accountable for what he’d done. And I know making boundaries is hard. Especially for someone like you.”
I nodded. She was right. People-pleasing me would have made excuses for Max. And maybe I hadn’t handled this in the best way, but it was better than letting people walk all over me.
“Maybe I overreacted, though.” I grimaced. There was that people-pleaser part of me that she’d just mentioned, still wanting to make things okay. To take blame for something that wasn’t my fault.
“Considering the fact that there wasn’t a news report tonight about you locking him up in his apartment and setting it on fire, no, I don’t think you overreacted.” When I didn’t smile at her joke, she added, “Someday you’ll look back at all of this and it will just be blood under the bridge.”
She was right. About everything. I had to be better about setting boundaries and standing up for myself. I couldn’t let myself get into a situation like this ever again.
I curled up on the couch, again trying to shrink away. We both heard my phone buzz in my purse. Vella got up, found it, and shut it off. I wouldn’t be able to shut off the outside world for forever, though. At some point I was going to have to figure out what to do about a job because I still wanted to be able to eat and have electricity.
She set my phone down on the counter. “I want to show you something.”
“What?”
“My bedroom.”
It was so entirely unexpected that for a few beats I didn’t react. “Really?”
“It’s time. Come on.”
Despite my bone-melting sadness, I got to my feet quickly. I didn’t want her to change her mind. Would there be a pile of rodent skulls? The dried hearts of her ex-lovers? Barbie posters? I just didn’t know.
I wanted to tell someone that it was finally happening—and I was crushed when I realized that the person I most wanted to tell was Max.
“If you have puppies in there and you didn’t share, just know that I’m going to be furious,” I told her.
She put the key into the lock and swung the door open. “Have a look.”
My heart beat so hard as I crossed the threshold. It was a normal-looking room. No frills or expensive furniture—a mattress with a basic frame and a beat-up dresser.
But what drew my eye was four rows of shelves against a wall, stacked with trophies, sashes, and pictures.
And the photos were all of a blonde-haired Vella, wearing high heels, sparkling evening gowns, and tiaras.
“Cosmetology school is not the only reason why I know how to do hair and makeup,” she told me.
“You were a beauty queen?” It was so unlike her I couldn’t reconcile the idea that the person standing next to me was the same one in the photos.
“Yes. And I keep all this stuff to remind myself on a daily basis of who I used to be so that I’ll remember to not be her again.”
“You could just keep a scrapbook or a private Pinterest board like a regular person,” I said.
“What’s the fun in that? Who you used to be doesn’t dictate who you’re going to be. It’s why I can’t settle on one job. I’m not sure who I want to be yet, and I’m going to try everything out until I find exactly what I want. It’s why none of my relationships work out, either. I don’t know who I am, so how can I be with someone else? But you? You already know who you are, Everly. And you’re more than just your insecurities and fears. You can deal with anything that comes your way. And I really admire that about you.”
Even though I’d thought all my tears had fallen, some reserves showed up. “You’re really good at this supporting-your-friend thing. Have you thought about becoming a life coach?”
“Can you even imagine how many people I would permanently mess up if I did that?”
“You’d do a better job than you think.”
She shook her head like she didn’t believe me.
“So all I had to do to see inside your room was get fired and have my heart broken?” I asked.
“I kept this from you, and you’re my best friend. I didn’t let you see this side of who I used to be because it would have changed how you thought about me now. And I like the way you see me.” She paused for a few seconds and then said, “I would bet Max found himself in the same situation.”
“But you didn’t lie about what was in your room.”
“No, I get that. I’m just saying I understand why someone might do it. Because in a sense I’ve done it, too.”
There was merit to what she was saying. I was focusing solely on the lies Max had told without really wondering why he had done it. Maybe his reasons would matter. Maybe they would even change how I felt right now.
But I was too upset with him, too hurt, to give those thoughts much consideration.
I walked out of her room and to my alcove. I wanted to go to bed and for this day to be over. I didn’t want to think about Max anymore.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked, misunderstanding my silence.
“I’m a little upset that we could have been playing princess dress-up with your tiaras this whole time, but no, I’m not mad. It was your secret to keep. I’m glad that you shared it with me, though. But I’m really tired and I want to go to sleep.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m here if you need me.”
That made my tears well up again, so I just nodded. When I heard her bedroom door close, I collapsed onto my bed.
She was right about Max—he wouldn’t stay away forever. I couldn’t talk to him right now, though. I didn’t have it in me.
In one night I had lost the man I loved and the job I’d adored. I felt like I had nothing left here in New York.
I grabbed my laptop and did the only thing I could think of.
I booked a flight home.