Chapter 30
April
Four Days Until The Wedding
I scoot my knees closer to my chest and prop my cereal bowl on them.
Nothing that can’t be solved with a bowl of Crunch Berries.
Sugary cardboard. Babcia’s voice is in my head more than I would like these days.
I should probably call her. Let her know she was right all along and this whole endeavor only led to my ruin.
Maybe when I’ve finished my Jane Austen marathon.
Mr. Darcy’s hand flexes on the screen and I slurp the milk out of my cereal bowl, hoping to drown the ache in my chest with oversweetened dairy. Kotka hops into my lap. I’ll take it as a kind gesture, even though she’s likely only motivated by what’s in my bowl.
If only Trip could see me now.
I can’t wait to see what you’ll do.
Two days and all I’ve done is put myself in a sugar coma, call in sick to work, and order new throw pillows online. The Lorax one was unceremoniously thrown in the dumpster downstairs. It’s the only time I’ve left my apartment.
My life is mine. Big whoop. It still feels lonely as heck.
I haven’t heard from Carter and probably won’t unless I initiate.
Zuri doesn’t know about the curse, let alone the whole I see dead people aspect.
And Trip—I can’t even go there. Even with his physical absence, he occupies just as much space in my mind.
How am I supposed to just sit here and wait for the days to tick by on the calendar, until it’s too late?
Would I know? Would I have some inkling the same way I do when he enters or exits a room?
When the paper came yesterday, I immediately flipped to the obituaries and the society pages, figuring if anything had happened it would be captured there. My hands shook, making it impossible to turn the flimsy pages. Nothing. I scanned it again, slowing down this time. Still nothing.
Will this be my life? Sitting by and waiting for the inevitable? Trip no doubt thought he was handing me a leading role, and yet here I am, even more of a spectator.
I miss his hair when it’s in need of a cut, the slight ridge in the middle of his nose, the way his eyes are the window to his emotions no matter how much he schools his facial expressions.
The torture of knowing I’ll never be able to touch him—to know what it feels like to run my hands through his hair, to press my lips to his.
The summoning stone sits unused on my bedside table, taunting me. What would be the point? Trip doesn’t want my help anymore, and what other purpose would I have for calling him?
I wanted to see your face one more time. The Jane Austen is getting to me.
And then there’s Carter. Half of me hopes he’ll call me up, say he’s made up his mind one way or another.
But instead, the decision rests on my shoulders like an unwanted barbell.
Say no to Carter and I lose my best friend.
Say yes and I hurt Sabrina. Would I even say yes in the first place? I groan.
A pounding at my front door makes me jump, nearly upending my cereal bowl.
I set it on the table and stand up, pressing my hands to my oversize Columbia T-shirt as though it will smooth out any wrinkles.
Grabbing a nearby hair tie, I twist my mass of curls into a topknot and press my palms to the crown of my head, trying to tame any flyaways.
Well, this is as good as it’s going to get.
I swing the front door open.
Yesenia removes her headphones, backpack dangling from one shoulder, and gives me a long once-over. Her eyes stop at the hem of my shirt, where my bare legs disappear.
“I’m wearing underwear.” The words come out in one continuous jumble. I pull at the hem of my T-shirt.
“Good to know?” Yesenia raises one eyebrow.
“What are you doing here? I mean”—I dial down the anxiety in my voice—“do you need something?”
“It’s Tuesday. Four p.m.” She widens her eyes and nods her head like a teacher encouraging a preschooler to find the answer.
I slap my palm against my forehead. “Right—our session. I’m so sorry. Come on in.”
I step to the side and let her through the doorway. Yesenia’s eyes travel from the dirty dishes in my kitchen sink to the mountain of blankets on my couch, the Bennet sisters tittering away in the background.
“Everything alright?” she asks.
Her tone is laced with sarcasm, but guilt gnaws at me all the same.
Yesenia and I were both raised in environments where unpredictability was the norm, not quite knowing which version of a person you’re going to get that day.
It sucks to feel like you’re walking on eggshells at all times, which is why I’ve always tried to provide some level of stability and comfort.
We meet at my apartment, same times, twice a week, and I buy Fritos and Trader Joe’s peanut butter cups.
No variations. Forgetting about our session—well, it’s never happened before.
“Make yourself at home.” I rush to clean up my cereal bowl and fold the blankets from the cocoon I’ve built. “I’m going to…put some pants on.”
In my bedroom, I pull on a pair of sweatpants and brush my teeth, removing the layer of solidified sugar on them. Spitting the paste into the sink, I look at my reflection in the mirror.
“Get your shit together, Libby. This girl is counting on you.”
Somewhat refreshed, I return to the living room. Yesenia is scratching Kotka, who is stretched luxuriously across her lap. With the other hand, she eats fistfuls of Crunch Berries straight from the box.
“Who actually talks like this?” Her words are garbled through a mouthful of cereal.
I turn to the TV, where the Bennets are about to attend a ball. Sliding the remote off the coffee table, I turn the power off.
“Hey!”
“Let’s save the Jane Austen education for another day.” I clap my hands together. “What’s on the agenda?”
“Organic chemistry.”
Wonderful.
—
After an hour of Yesenia schooling me in synthesis problems, I beg for a break.
“I need to ace this, though,” she whines.
“You seem to have it pretty well in hand. Soda?”
She nods and follows me to the kitchen, where I grab two Cokes out of the fridge. I throw one to her and press the other against my forehead, the cool condensation a relief for the migraine working its way to the surface. Yesenia opens hers and a satisfying hiss occupies the tiny kitchen.
“You’re acting weird.” She leans against the counter and takes a large slurp of her drink.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just a stressful week at work and—”
“You went to work today?” Her voice drips with skepticism. “Your lack of pants said otherwise.”
“Fine.” I frown and place my soda on the counter with a bit too much force. “It’s just—life, uh, stuff. But nothing you need to be worried about.”
She snorts. “Why would I be worried?”
“Oh. Well, okay. Just…if you were.”
“Everyone has their shit, Miss Lakoski. It’s fine.”
“Language!” Even as I chastise her, the squeeze on my heart loosens a bit.
I meet her dark brown eyes—so wise beyond their years. This girl is stronger at eighteen than I’ve ever been. Maybe my desire to shelter her is unfounded. Plus, can we ever really shield someone fully?
“Dude. What are you staring at?” She gulps at her Coke.
I divert my gaze and shake my head. “Never mind. What’s the next subject?”
We’re interrupted by a loud banging coming from the apartment door.
Absurd. After a lifetime of no visitors, my apartment has seen more action in the past three days than ever before. My heart jolts, contemplating who it could be. Definitely not Carter. Do I want it to be him?
Hurrying to the door and placing a hand on my chest as though it will steady the stampede of my heart, I peek through the peephole.
A flash of auburn followed by another loud knock and a muffled voice.
“Libby Lakoski, you better open this door!”
Sabrina. I roll my neck and take my hand off the knob.
This could go a number of ways. There’s the fact that her fiancé was at my apartment two nights ago professing his love for me.
Though I doubt Carter would have shared that with her.
Unless it came up in the heat of a fight or something? She doesn’t exactly sound happy.
Another loud knock.
“You going to answer it?” Yesenia’s voice comes from over my shoulder.
I jump out of my skin. “Dammit, Yesenia.”
“Language.” She snorts.
The door hinges squeal as I wrench it open.
“Ah, so you are alive.” Sabrina stands there, hands on hips and looking like the definition of a girl boss in her charcoal blazer and expensive ballet flats.
Her hair is swept back in its usual chignon, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s the picture of calm. Her pink cheeks give her away, though. I’m starting to read her better.
She storms through the doorway like a freight train, throwing her bag on the hook as though she’s been here a million times, when in fact this is her first visit.
“Libby Lakoski, what is going on?” She throws her arms out wide.
“What do you mean?”
Is it worth playing dumb at this point? Her eyes take in my outfit, the Crunch Berry stuck to my shirt, but there’s no judgment, just concern. My heart warms to see her, then gallops like a runaway horse at the memory of Carter threatening to call off the wedding.
Sabrina’s eyes narrow. “Don’t you play dumb with me, Libby. You missed my final dress fitting this morning.”
“Oh? Sorry.” I rub my elbow. “It must have slipped my mind.”
“Bullshit. Don’t act like you don’t have a color-coded calendar and reminders set in your phone for every single appointment. Something’s going on.”
I press my fingers to my temples. “I’m really sorry about the dress fitting. How did it go?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about my fitting! I’m worried about you.” She huffs a breath.
A throat clears to our left. Yesenia watches us, wide-eyed, holding Kotka in her arms. Shit.
I raise an arm in her direction. “Sabrina, this is Yesenia. I—tutor her, I guess you could say.”
Yesenia chuckles and Kotka drops to the floor. “I think I end up teaching her more.”
“Very true.” I wipe my brow, certain there are beads of sweat forming. Swallowing, I will my heart rate to slow, but it’s useless until I find out how much Sabrina knows.
“She didn’t know what TikTok was before she met me.” Yesenia flashes a smile.
Sabrina giggles and I smack her arm.
“What?” Her perfectly manicured hand flies to her chest. “Not my fault you’ve been living under a rock.”
“I like her.” Yesenia offers a handshake to Sabrina.
Sabrina takes it, still giggling. “Pleasure’s all mine.” She turns back to me, brow furrowed. “Now are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s really nothing.” I move to the kitchen table and start shuffling through the envelopes and flyers forming a small mountain there. “I had some things come up, but I promise it’s nothing serious. Just personal.”
Sabrina chews her bottom lip and her eyes dart to Yesenia. “Do you believe her?”
“Not a chance.” Yesenia grins.
I throw an envelope on the table with a smack. “After all I’ve done for you! Come to think of it, you too!” I point at Sabrina.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Carter told me he was here the other night.”
My body goes rigid, sirens blaring in my brain. Not. Good.
I clear my throat and swallow. “He did? What did he say?”
Sabrina swats her hand in the air. “He’s been acting all mopey. A lot like you are.” She glares at me with discerning eyes. “I finally forced him to tell me what was going on. Not exactly great to have your groom looking like he’s seen a ghost days before your wedding.”
Breathe.
“Wait,” Yesenia chimes in. “Is this hot best friend Carter we’re talking about?”
If a giant sinkhole decided to appear in the middle of my apartment floor, now would be an excellent time. I shoot Yesenia a look that I hope clearly conveys I will kill you. She’s unfazed.
“Hot best friend Carter?” A smile creeps across Sabrina’s mouth. “Yeah, I suppose he’s pretty fit.”
“Sabrina is Carter’s fiancée,” I tell Yesenia through bared teeth.
“Oh!” Her eyes gleam. “I’ve actually never met him. Only know about his hotness from Miss Lakoski.”
This is why you don’t tell teenagers anything. Even if they’re extremely charming, persuasive, and wise beyond their years.
“Yesenia, I think our session is done.”
“Oh! But this is fun.” She moves to the living room and plops down in a chair, throwing her legs over the arm.
Sabrina elbows me in the side and brings her voice to a whisper. “Aw, you call him hot best friend? You two are so precious.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks and though I can’t see my face, I’m fairly certain it looks like the Kool-Aid Man’s.
Sabrina’s smile drops. “Oh, darling. You had a fight, didn’t you?” She places her palm on my upper arm. “That’s why you’re both in foul moods and why you didn’t come today. Because it was Carter who asked for the favor in the first place.”
I cover my face with the palms of my hands to hide my scarlet color as much as my emotions. This is supremely unfair to Sabrina. Her fiancé is considering calling off the wedding and she deserves a fair warning. A good friend would tell her. Would help her.
But I’m turning out to be a woefully shitty friend, so I simply nod, aware of my alternative but taking the coward’s way out.
“Oh, Libby.” Sabrina wraps me in her arms.
I didn’t know it was possible for my stomach to sink any lower, but it does.
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. Let me talk to him, I’ll sort it out. He’s probably stressed with the wedding.”
I pull away, just enough to look her in the eye. “No. I’ll handle this, Sabrina. Don’t worry. You have enough going on. The wedding will be fine, I promise.” The lie sticks in my throat. Pressing a hand to my cheek, I wipe away an unexpected wetness. Tears, but not for the reason she thinks.
“Hey, Miss L.” Yesenia is still draped across the armchair, twirling the TV remote in her hand. “I think this calls for a Jane Austen lesson.”