Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
With a flick of her wrist, Novalee Brathwaite pops the cork off a bottle of champagne she brought to my new place. Victor and I picked up my keys from the building manager a couple of days ago, and today, Novalee’s here to help me unpack.
“Oops,” she giggles, her eyes sparkling with mischief as champagne sprays out of the bottle and over the sink.
“Look at us, being all fancy,” I tease with laughter on my lips.
“Right?” she agrees, pouring champagne into two plastic cups. “What do you think about your new apartment?”
“I love it.” I glance out the open window, taking in the vibrant streets of downtown Woodland Hills. The sounds of the city drift up to me—a mix of car engines, chatter, and music from nearby shops and cafés.
“I loved it too.” Novalee used to live in this building. She adored it so much that her hubby bought the entire complex for her as a birthday gift a few years back.
I turn from the window, smiling. Her freckled face glows with excitement, just like mine. But I can’t ignore the faint trace of pity in her eyes. She knows my secret—or sin—depending on how you look at it. “I’ve decided to reach out to Esme to see if we can work through everything.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Novalee exclaims with a hopeful smile. “And even if she doesn’t respond right away, give her time. I think she’ll come around—when she’s ready. Trust me.”
I exhale a shaky breath. “What if we can’t move past it?”
“Then you respect her boundaries. But something tells me this isn’t the end of the story for you two.”
While we unpacked my kitchen earlier, Novalee didn’t probe; she simply listened as I told her everything, from my high school crush on Victor and his relationship with Esme to finding Ian and Esme together.
Although she heard Conner’s highlights shared by Victor, she didn’t know nearly as many details as I shared with her.
I toss back a large gulp of champagne, wishing it could numb my grief, but I know I’m not going to drink enough for that to happen. With a sigh, I look around my new place, taking in the shiny floors, the natural light, and the clean white walls and cabinets. “I’ve never lived alone before,” I admit.
Novalee sits on the windowsill, holding her cup of champagne. “Living alone has its perks, but it might take some getting used to—especially if you’re not a fan of quiet.”
“I don’t mind the quiet.” That used to be true, but lately, the quiet is loud.
“How are things with you and Victor?”
A genuine smile tugs at my lips, as it always does when I think about him. And my cheeks heat up as I remember how we christened the place last night. “Things are good. We’re planning a trip to Bora Bora this summer.”
Novalee nods, her expression neutral, but her tiny smile says a lot. I know she’s happy for us—she’s said as much. But she also hates what happened to my friendship with Esme because of it.
“Have you ever been?” I ask, wanting to steer her thoughts away from the mess of my relationship with my oldest friend.
“Once, with my parents.” She grins, and it looks like it worked. “You two will love it.”
“You’re not drinking?” I ask, noticing her untouched cup.
“I probably shouldn’t. I think I’m pregnant.”
My eyes flare in surprise. “What?”
Her grin widens, and she’s practically glowing with excitement at the thought of adding to their family. They already have three children—twin boys and a girl—whom I’ve babysat a time or two. “I’m not one hundred percent sure yet, but I’m late. I’ll take a test when Conner gets home tonight.”
“That’s awesome!”
“After this, I’m done.” She gives me a wry look. “But a sip won’t hurt, right?”
I laugh. “No. I don’t think so.”
She takes a tentative sniff of her champagne and scrunches up her nose like the smell is gross. “Yeah, I’m definitely pregnant,” she concludes with a chuckle. “I’ll pass.”
She goes to pour her champagne into the sink, but I grab it from her hand just in time. “I’ll take that,” I say, downing the Cristal.
“Help yourself.” Novalee giggles, shaking her head as I drain the cup.
We settle into an easy conversation while we continue to unpack my things, enjoying the moment of shared happiness and the promise of new beginnings. The morning sun streams through the windows, bathing the apartment in a warm, golden glow. It’s a perfect day, and for a moment, all the guilt of the past few months seems to fade away.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on my door. “I’ll get that,” Novalee offers, setting the box cutter to the side.
“Thanks. I’m not expecting anyone, but the more, the merrier.” I reach for another plastic cup to fix whoever it is a drink, but I accidentally knock over the bottle of Cristal, spilling champagne on my counter. I right the bottle quickly and look around for a paper towel or something but don’t see one among all the boxes. “Be right back,” I call out, going to grab some tissues to clean the mess, just as Novalee answers the door.
In the bathroom, I take a moment to relieve myself and wash my hands before grabbing a wad of tissues from the roll. As I head back out to the kitchen, I’m surprised to see Victor standing there. I thought he had to work today.
He and Novalee abruptly stop speaking, their faces etched with a mixture of sorrow and apprehension. The air in the room feels heavy. My grin fades when Novalee looks away, blinking back tears.
“Hey, baby,” Victor says carefully, his voice strained and hoarse.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my words trembling as I tear at the pieces of tissue in my hand. A sinking feeling forms in the pit of my stomach as my heart races.
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, before sharing a loaded glance with Novalee. She clears her throat, her voice thick with emotion as she speaks. “You…you should sit down.”
I look back and forth between them, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Victor’s hair is more disheveled than usual, like he’s been running his fingers through it over and over. His normally clear eyes are bloodshot and red. “No,” I say, shaking my head as my heart pounds wildly in my chest, so loud I can barely hear anything else. “I don’t want to sit down.”
My mind races with possibilities, each one worse than the last. Did someone die?
“Please, Skylar,” Victor pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. He takes a step toward me, grabbing hold of my hand as if to lead me to the couch, but I remain rooted in place, squeezing his hand for support. A sense of foreboding washes over me, and I know I’ll need his strength for whatever comes next.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Novalee sink onto the couch, her legs giving out like the weight of the news is too much to handle.
“Is it Yasmine? Niko? Did something happen to my dad?” I ask, my chest getting tighter with each word, making it hard to breathe.
Victor shakes his head, his eyes filled with a sadness so deep it takes my breath away. “It’s…it’s Esme.” He takes my other hand, holding both of them in his as he struggles to find the words. “There was an accident—a car accident.”
An accident ? The words echo in my mind, but I can’t seem to understand them. “Is she okay?” My phone starts ringing, the sound making me jump. I glance at it on the counter before turning back to Victor, my eyes searching his face for answers, for any sign that this is all just a terrible mistake.
“No, baby. She’s not,” he says, his voice raw.
I pull my hands out of his. What does he mean no ?
The phone rings again, but I ignore it, my attention only on Victor, waiting for him to tell me that Esme is all right. Novalee stands up from the couch and grabs my phone, answering it softly. “Hello? Skylar’s phone.” She takes the call into the hallway, her voice fading as she walks away.
“Where is she?” I’ve heard enough, and I can’t look at him right now. He’s freaking me out. I’ve never seen him so broken. “Help me find my keys,” I say, searching around the apartment. “I have to get to the hospital.” I don’t even know which one, but I’ll figure that out when I get to the car.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind. “Skylar, baby, listen to me for a minute.”
“No,” I snap, spinning around to face him. Tears are sticking to his lashes now. “No,” I say again, my voice cracking.
Novalee appears again from the hall, her arms wrapped around herself, with eyes as watery as Victor’s.
“Who was on the phone?” I ask her.
“It was Liv.” Novalee looks to Victor, who wraps his arms around me in a hug. But why is he hugging me right now? And why is Novalee crying? We have to get to the hospital. With Liv calling, it must be bad. “How bad is it?” I ask, pulling back from Victor’s hug.
He looks like he’s about to break, but he takes a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. “No,” he says. “She didn’t make it.”
A weak laugh escapes me because this has to be a cruel joke. “What do you mean didn’t make it?”
“She…she died on the way to the hospital.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs. What does he mean died ? Esme isn’t dead. I try to shove him, but he won’t let me.
“Whoever told you that is lying.” But as I search Victor’s face, seeing the pain etched into every line, the truth sinks in with a sickening finality.
“A friend of mine works as an EMT,” he says, struggling. “He was one of the first responders on the scene.”
A hand, Novalee’s hand, reaches for my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Skylar.”
No. Hell no. Fuck no! She’s not gone. She can’t be. We needed more time.
I’m begging Victor with my eyes to tell me that his friend is wrong. They have to be. Esme isn’t gone. She’s not dead. She can’t be. She’s too young. Too full of life. And she’s…she’s…
We haven’t made up yet.
Oh, God. Oh, God, no. Please no.
A gut-wrenching sob rips from my throat, and my knees give out, almost sending me crashing to the floor, but Victor catches me. The pain in my chest is unbearable, a searing agony that consumes every part of me, leaving me raw and broken as I wail in his arms.