Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Liv and I sit across from each other at our usual booth in Harry’s, the empty space beside me feeling surreal. As we reminisce about our zipline adventure in Puerto Vallarta, Liv recounts, “As soon as we took off down the zipline, she started freaking the fuck out, screaming and begging for it to be over.”
Laughter escapes my lips as the memory of that day floods back, despite my own fear of heights. “I still can’t believe she pissed herself,” I say, reaching for my espresso martini—the same drink Esme ordered the last time we were all here.
Shaking her head, Liv adds, “And made us swear on our lives not to tell a soul.”
“We locked it up in the vault.” Our food sits untouched, forgotten and growing colder as we lose ourselves in memories. Talking about Esme in the past tense still doesn’t feel real.
Even through the sadness, Liv’s eyes glint with a hint of mischief. “The vault: where secrets go to die.”
Silence settles over us; I pick at my food, my appetite long gone.
Folding and refolding her napkin until it becomes a tiny square, Liv finally says, “I owe you an apology.” Her voice is barely audible over the din of the bar.
I shake my head. “No you don’t.”
“Yes. I do. Some of the things I last said to you—and about you to Esme when she called and told me about the texts…”
“I get it. I do.” My voice breaks, and I swallow hard, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“I knew you slept with him.”
I wince, remembering how I lied to her face about sleeping with Victor.
Her lip twitches. “You’ve never been a good liar.”
“I know.”
“I was comparing your situation with me and my ex. But it wasn’t the same. You’re not him, and neither is Victor. Y’all fell in love.” She shrugs as tears swim in her eyes. “Neither of you meant for it to happen. It just did.”
“We didn’t. But we hurt her, Liv. We never wanted that. I swear to God.” Tears spill down my cheeks faster than I can wipe them away, my words coming out broken. Coming around the table, Liv gives me a hug. “She was my—” A choked sob escapes my throat, barely intelligible. “—my best friend. And now she’s gone, Liv. She’s… gone .”
“What happened with the three of you…it was a fucking mess from the start. But you’re not a bad person. Neither is he. And neither was Esme. But Ian? Fuck that guy. I know he hit you, and I know Esme slept with him, trying to get back at you.”
My eyes wide, I stare at her. “She told you about that?”
Nodding, her expression is serious. “And I went off on her for fucking him. Trust. But I didn’t cut her off like I did with you.”
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper.
“I’ve missed you too.” Tears shine in Liv’s eyes, and a few escape, sliding down her cheeks. She swipes at them with her napkin, laughing a little. “Fuck, this is hard.”
“Yeah, it is.” I grab my own napkin and dab at my face, but it’s useless. The tears just keep coming.
She squeezes my hand, holding on tight. “Life is too damn short. We can’t take each other for granted.”
Her words hit me hard. “I miss her, Liv. I miss her so fucking much.” A broken sob tears from my throat, and I bury my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with the force of my grief.
Liv cries beside me, fanning herself with her napkin. “I told myself I wasn’t gonna cry anymore today. I’m not hydrated enough to handle it, not with all the booze I’m about to drink.”
Laughter bubbles up through my tears at Liv’s weak attempt at a joke, and she joins in, our laughter mingling with our sobs.
Desperate to lighten the mood, I ask, “I saw Smith with you today. He your man yet?”
“That would be a hell yes,” she admits, a smitten smile playing on her lips. Her eyes sparkle as she adds, “He flies to LA almost every weekend to see me.”
“Liv’s got a man,” I sing-song, my voice teasing as I nudge her with my elbow.
Rolling her eyes, Liv can’t hide her smile. “Oh, God. Now you sound just like Esme.”
“I mean, it’s been a minute since you’ve been in a relationship. I’m happy for you, girl.” I reach out and squeeze her hand, my heart swelling with joy for my other best friend.
“I really love him, Sky.” Liv’s voice softens, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“Aww, Liv.” I touch my hand to my chest.
“He wants to marry me.”
“What?” I turn to face her fully, looking down at her bare finger. “For real?”
She nods, twisting her hands in her lap. “I told him no—more like, not yet. Even though it feels like I’ve known him forever, it’s only been like…five minutes.” She shrugs, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “His parents probably won’t be on board—his mama already said as much. But we don’t care. He already his dad that I’m the love of his life. And they’re just going to have to deal with it or not deal with him at all.”
“Aww, Liv.” My eyes water, but this time, they’re happy tears. I reach out and pull her into a tight hug, her tears dampening my shoulder.
When we pull apart, Liv wipes her eyes, a watery smile on her face. “How are things with you and Victor?”
“We’re doing okay. But it’s been hard.”
“That’s understandable, with everything that’s happened.”
I sigh, confessing, “I know he’s hurting too. But he hasn’t opened up yet—at least, not to me. Not that I’ve given him much of a chance. I’ve been kind of a mess.”
Liv nods in understanding, a small wince in the corners of her eyes. “I saw him at the cemetery, and he looked…wrecked.”
I’d noticed it too, especially after offering his condolences to Ms. Sharon. They’d shared a brief conversation, and though I tried not to stare, I couldn’t help but notice the pain searing through him as she spoke with him. “I wanted to hug him so bad.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Esme’s mom doesn’t know about us.”
Clearing her throat, Liv says, “Gotcha.”
“But he’s been my rock, Liv. And I want to be his too, but I don’t know how to be. I’m barely keeping it together.”
With what looks like sincerity filling her eyes, she assures me, “You guys will get through this. I know you will.”
In my heart, I know she’s right. Somehow, we’ll find our way back to a better place, even if it’s one tiny step at a time.
Cutting through my thoughts, Liv says, “Let’s toast.”
“To what?”
For a moment, Liv’s face falls in agony, but she pushes it away, straightening her shoulders. “To sisterhood.” The same toast we made with Esme.
Taking a shuddering breath, I lift my glass. “To sisterhood.”
It’s after nine when Liv and I say our goodbyes outside of Harry’s, emotionally drained but grateful for the time we spent together. I take a deep breath as I head to my car, the cool air hitting my lungs as I inhale the fresh, clean scent of the night air after a day of cleansing rain.
Despite already having a few things at Victor’s, I stop by my apartment to change out of my dress. The short drive provides a moment of solitude, allowing me to process the day’s events. As I enter my apartment, the silence feels heavy, almost suffocating. I quickly gather my belongings, eager to leave the emptiness behind.
By the time I reach Victor’s loft, it’s raining again. As I type in the code to his front door, exhaustion weighs heavily on my body, making my movements sluggish.
The only light comes from the stove, darkness greeting me as I enter. I scan the room, searching for Victor, until I spot his silhouette by the window. He sits motionless in a couch chair, a glass of scotch dangling from his fingers. His shoulders are slumped and his brow is furrowed as he stares out at the relentless rain pelting against the windows and streaking down the glass. Even in the dark, the devastation etched into his features is unmistakable, and my heart clenches at the sight.
As he starts to get up, I rush over, my feet eating up the space. I climb into his lap, curling around him. His arms encircle me, his muscles relaxing under my touch as if my presence alone holds him together.
Silence settles between us, and I press gentle kisses along his jaw, my lips finding the soft skin of his neck. As he draws me closer, his chest rises and falls with a steadying breath. “Hey,” he finally rasps, handing me his almost-empty glass.
“Hey,” I say, before drinking up the rest, wincing at the burn. “It’s okay to be sad—to miss her. I know how much you cared about her.”
Sitting back, Victor swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if the words are too heavy to speak. “I spoke with Ms. Sharon today at the cemetery.”
“How’d it go?” They’d hugged for a long time after.
His head drops, eyes slipping closed. When they open, they fix on me, glassy and brilliantly blue. In that moment, I see it—a flicker of something so profound, so devastating. Drawing in a breath, I hold it, preparing myself for the blow. Whatever he’s about to tell me has the power to break us, but we won’t let it. Because what’s the alternative? Being apart? I couldn’t bear it. Neither could he.
“She…she said Esme was pregnant,” he says.
Slapping my hand over my mouth, I choke on a sob that I force myself to swallow back. He needs me right now, and I won’t break down. Not in front of him. Because if I cry, I won’t be able to stop, and he’ll be the one comforting me when I want to be the one comforting him in this moment.
I clear my throat. “It was yours,” I say, more of a statement than a question.
Victor runs a hand down his face, wiping away tears he doesn’t want me to see, still trying to be the strong one. “The medical examiner said she was sixteen weeks along.” His voice breaks, and he takes a shuddering breath before continuing, “It was a boy. My son.”
Sixteen weeks. The revelation stuns me, catapulting my thoughts back in time. That night at Midnight Blues when Ian and I saw them—Esme had been pregnant, though barely. She might not have known then.
Cape Cod comes to mind next. I remember her drinking. Surely she was still unaware. But after that? At sixteen weeks, she must have realized. Why the silence? Was she planning a surprise and dramatic announcement? Some of her last words come back to me—like a warning: “Good luck with that. Shit happens, you know?” Her comment didn’t resonate at the time she’d said it; I was still reeling from the realization of her and Ian. But now? Questions swirl in my head, each more perplexing than the last.
My heart physically hurts. I cradle Victor’s face in my hands, drawing him closer until our foreheads touch, our noses brushing. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the tears fall, mixing with his as they drip onto my hands.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
We hold on to each other tightly, desperate for comfort, for something to hold us together. This hurts . Tears stream down our faces, our chests rising and falling with the weight of our emotions.
Make it stop.
The kiss begins slowly, a gentle exploration as our lips graze each other’s skin, tasting each other’s tears. Hesitantly, our lips brush together. It’s a touch as light as a feather, but it sparks something deep inside of us, a different kind of ache. As our mouths move together, the kiss deepens, growing rougher. Our tongues duel and our hands grab at each other’s clothes.
We break apart, only for a moment, gasping for air as I straddle him, my legs on either side. Wordlessly, we come back together, our mouths crashing against each other in a teeth-clashing, lip-biting, tongue-sucking kiss. I cling to him, my arms locked around his neck when he stands us up from the couch chair. My legs tighten their hold around his waist, his strong arms supporting my weight.
Blindly, he navigates us to the window, pinning me against the cold glass. Frantic hands tear at each other’s clothes until our most intimate parts are exposed. And when he enters me, he does it in one long thrust.
It’s so deep, so hard, and so huge that it leaves me breathless, my heart thumping in my ears as my walls pulsate around him. Letting our bodies take over, we let go, fucking each other with a recklessness and a neediness that lights us on fire. It’s a combustible passion, one that consumes us, stripping us bare as we seek healing from each other’s bodies.
I love this man. With every fiber of my being. Couldn’t help it if I tried. What we have isn’t tainted or doomed or wrong. Do I wish that things could’ve happened differently? All the time. But that’s not our story. There’s no going back, only moving forward—healing, loving, and forgiving ourselves.
This is us, now and always. Our love is the real thing, no matter how messy it started. We’ll get through this—through the grief and pain. Together. Somehow.