Chapter 43
AUDREY
Three weeks later
Dear Audrey,
How much longer are you planning to avoid me?
I’m trying my best not to go fucking insane, but this is torture—and I know you know that.
I wake up every morning wishing you were still in my arms, that your lips were still pressed against mine.
I can’t concentrate on much of anything else. My friends and family won’t answer my calls because all I do is talk about you.
Not that that’s your fault—it’s all mine. I’m asking—no, begging you to unblock me and let me talk to you, so I can make things right between us.
Please.
I’m really sorry, and I really fucking miss you.
(Are you watching my games, by chance? Would you like to come see me play in the VIP box again?)
Take care,
Taylor
Ireread Taylor’s latest letter for what had to be the hundredth time.
My heart ached with every word, begging me to give in and at least text him that I’d received it—but I refused.
Every hour without him was time slowly sweeping away the pain, and he would eventually become a distant memory I’d write about someday.
Once a bully, always a bully.
Folding the paper, I tucked it into a box with the others and walked into the living room.
Cecelia was sprawled across the couch, fanning her latest manicure.
“How long exactly do you plan to sleep on my couch?” I asked.
“You said I could stay here as long as I needed to.”
“That typically means two weeks.”
“Well, you never actually said that.” She shrugged. “Alas, let’s reset the time so today counts as my first day, okay?”
“Fine.” I laughed, plopping onto the chair across from her.
“I know it’s only a matter of time before the program calls to award you that six-figure check,” she said. “Given all the writing you’ve shared with me, I know you won.”
“They’ll probably give it to Taylor.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure he’s taking full advantage of me not being there and kissing up to all the professors.”
“Is that what you would do, if the roles were reversed?”
“No.” I shook my head. “If he won, he’d deserve it.”
“Then what makes you think he doesn’t feel the same?”
I didn’t answer that. “Can I have some more vodka, please?”
“We finished the bottle last night,” she said. “I’ll have to grab some from the store. Want anything else?”
“No…”
“So, go get your mail from Aunt Lydia’s house, if I’m up to it?”
“That’s almost five hours away,” I said. “No. You going there once a week is enough.”
“Fine. I’ll go get it now.”
“You really don’t need to do that, Cecelia.”
“I do.” She shook her head. “I can’t stand you rereading the old ones—crying and wondering if he’s sent anything new.”
“He emails me,” I said. “I can just check my email.”
“Liar.” She scoffed. “You two are fucking weirdos, and if he were emailing you, you’d have your phone glued to your face half the day instead of those letters.”
I pulled a pillow over my face.
“You’re welcome.” She jiggled her keys. “I’ll go home, do some laundry, run a few errands, and come back tomorrow afternoon.”