Chapter 31
April
Four Days Until The Wedding
Two movies and part of a TV adaptation later, Yesenia snores softly on my couch. I pull the blanket up to her chin and tuck her in. Around the third time Mr. Knightley chastised Emma, I insisted Yesenia call her family and make sure they were okay with her staying. Unsurprisingly, they were.
Now Sabrina and I watch the intrigue play out in low volume, Kotka propped on my lap and the box of cereal on hers.
“What do they put in here?” She drops a few electric-blue puffs into her mouth.
“Drugs, I’m pretty sure.” I stroke Kotka’s fur.
“Makes sense,” she says through a mouthful.
It’s easy, lying on my couch, watching Emma, eating junk food.
Easy to pretend there’s nothing else going on.
But guilt still wraps itself around me like I’m a fly caught in a web.
Sabrina respected me from the first moment she met me, treated me as an equal whose thoughts, ideas, and opinions mattered.
She showed genuine interest in my life and the things I care about. What would she do in my position?
I pause the show. “Hey, can we chat? Maybe in the other room?”
Sabrina’s eyes widen, but she masks her initial surprise with ease. Picking up our sodas and the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table, I carry them into my bedroom. Sabrina follows, barefoot and stretching.
I close the door, but leave it open a crack. The glow from the TV trickles in, like a moving painting on the floorboards.
“What’s up?” Sabrina yawns, then sits cross-legged on my bed.
I sit next to her, placing the popcorn bowl between us as some kind of barrier or peace offering.
Oh, nothing, your fiancé just professed his love for me and wants to call off your wedding. I also might have feelings for your ex—the one currently in a coma?
“How are things with you and Carter going?” I meet her eyes and resist the urge to look away.
“Why?” Her voice is a whisper, the light from my bedside lamp encircling her head like a halo. “Did he say something the other night?”
I am a tightrope walker, taking careful steps. “Well. He may have mentioned some…doubts?”
She exhales and her eyes fall to the comforter. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m sorry.” Blood thrums through my chest. “I thought you would want to know. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t—”
“Oh god, that’s a relief.” Her shoulders slump, as though a valve is releasing tension in her neck.
“What?” My voice is sharp, stunned.
Sabrina grabs one of my hands. “I’ve been having such misgivings about this wedding. Through all the planning, the tastings, the fittings, the endless shit. I haven’t felt like me in any of this, you know?”
My heart hammers. Does this mean she wouldn’t be upset about my conversation with Carter? Let it go, Libby, let it go. Not the time to go down that path. I turn my focus wholly to Sabrina.
Her eyes are misty with an emotion I’ve never seen in them. Pain.
I squeeze her hand. “How can I help?”
She lets out a wet chuckle. “I don’t know at this point.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Maybe I’m being crazy and maybe it’s the wedding stress. But Carter and I—everything about us was so fast and unusual. For me, anyway.”
I nod. “He helped you through a hard time.”
“Trip and I hadn’t dated in years, but his accident still came as a shock. We had stayed friends. I was surprised, really, by how affected I was—”
“It makes sense, Sabrina. The way you felt.” Especially if her feelings haven’t faded entirely.
She sniffs. “And then Carter was there—in London. The living embodiment of joy.”
My stomach clenches in recognition.
“I had been alone for a bit. Was trying to figure some things out on my own, and then he was like a whirlwind—sweeping me off to Paris for the weekend, showing me a good time, helping me forget…quite a lot, actually. We were able to share our grief with one another. And our guilt over what was happening between us as a result.” She presses a palm to her cheek.
“But the pace had to slow down at some point, and now given some time, I’m just so confused.
” She whispers the last words, meeting my gaze.
Droplets roll in slow streams down her cheeks.
I close my eyes, willing my mind to push aside any selfish motivations. “You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.”
She looks up through long, copper eyelashes. “How terrible would it be, though?”
“No worse than going through with this if your heart’s not in it.” I swallow. “I’ll be here for you.”
It’s true. Our friendship might be in its infancy, but Sabrina’s presence is a rose-colored glow.
I want to keep her in my life. She leans over and wraps me in a rib-crushing hug.
The popcorn bowl topples onto the floor facedown, and Kotka slinks her way through the crack in the door, nipping at the scattered kernels.
“You let me know what you need. We can talk through any of it together,” I say with a diminishing air supply.
Sabrina lets go, thankfully, and sits back. “There is another thing.”
“Oh?”
“Another…person.” She picks at a loose thread on my quilt.
“Oh.” I sit up straight and do my best impression of Carter’s Botox-happy aunts. No facial movements.
Sabrina covers her face with her hands. “It’s totally crazy of me. I’m not sure that a relationship is even possible. All I know is I’ve never had this—this feeling—with anyone else. I don’t want to abandon it.” She collapses back onto the pillows, facing the ceiling. “The timing is so shitty.”
“Better than after you’re married.” I do my best to smile.
Our conversations from the past months flood my brain.
The hospital. Our families go back a ways.
The bridal shop. I thought he might be the one.
Central Park. Have you ever just met someone and it’s instantaneous—that spark?
And now. Sabrina can’t move forward with Carter because she’s still too hung up on Trip.
It’s clear as day. Sadly, no one understands how she feels better than I do.
The spark, the chemistry, the doubt over what is even possible because the man is in a literal coma.
I lie back on the pillow next to hers and turn on my side to face her.
My chin trembles and I clench my jaw to stop it.
“You deserve the best kind of love, Sabrina. Whomever it’s with.” I close my eyes to hold in any tears that threaten to spring up.
“Thanks, Libby.” Her voice is a whisper, and her eyes are like a cat’s in the dark. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you deserve it too.”
I sigh. “Not sure that’s in the cards for me.”
“And why not?”
I shrug, the pillow shifting beneath me. “Because people tend to change their minds about me. When push comes to shove, they choose something—or someone—else.”
Like a snake lunging for its prey, Sabrina’s hand darts out and grips my face, smooshing my cheeks together like obnoxious people do to babies. “Then choose yourself, Libby Lakoski. Screw other people’s approval. Are you happy with your life? With the person you are? That’s all that matters.”
“Um. Okay?” My words are garbled.
She lets go and I massage my jaw.
“I’m serious!” Sabrina props her head on her elbow. “Stop settling for what you think you deserve. Stop waiting for someone to wake up and realize they love you.”
“Who says I’m waiting for someone to realize they love me?”
She narrows her eyes. “Hot best friend?”
My cheeks burn and I look away. “It’s not like that.”
Sabrina sighs and lays her hands on her stomach. “I hope you can see how amazing you are. Outside of what other people think. Universal popularity is impossible, Libby, so start by making yourself happy. The right people will find you.”
I close my eyes and inhale. “Making myself happy. I’m not even sure I know what that means anymore.”
“Sure you do.” She smiles. “You just have to tune out the noise.”
My phone buzzes under my hip and I slide it out. “Oh, good. It’s Zuri.”
“Zuri?” Sabrina sits up.
“Yeah.” I take my time moving to an upright position and fluff the pillows against the headboard. “Hold on, I have to buzz her up.”
“She’s here?”
“Yeah.” I tuck a loose hair behind my ear and shove my feet into my slippers. “She was on a bad first date and I told her she should join our movie marathon after. But only if she brought Chinese food. No need to thank me, I know I’m a genius.”
“I should go.” Sabrina stands and presses her hands to the front of her jeans.
“What? No, that’s ridiculous. We have, like, enough food for seven people.”
“Leftovers, right? Isn’t that the best part of takeaway?” Her voice is unnatural. High-pitched and urgent.
She walks into the other room, sliding her feet into her ballet flats and shrugging on her blazer. Yesenia pulls a pillow over her face and rolls over, still asleep. Sabrina throws her purse over her shoulder and presses her palms to her still flawless chignon.
“Are you upset?” Tonight has been a lot. I wouldn’t blame her.
“No, no, darling. Just should be getting back to the wedding planning and all that.”
“The wedding—” Is still on?
She leans in and gives me a peck on the cheek. “This was fun. I’ll call you.”
Before I can process, the latch on the door clicks shut and Sabrina is gone from my apartment. Strange. I jam my thumb into the buzzer for Zuri, then twist the chain on my neck, holding my elbow in my opposite hand.
The cushions shift as I plop onto the couch in the space not already occupied by Yesenia’s curled-up body. Her sock feet poke out from the blanket and I adjust it to cover them, smiling at her content snores.
I sigh and lay my head on the back of the couch. What a night.
Sabrina’s ideas about love are fanciful, but I admire her determination. She’s willing to question this entire wedding because Carter doesn’t light a fire in her soul. Would I have the courage to do the same?
Maybe not six months ago, but things are different now.
Trip wasn’t totally wrong. I’ve followed Carter all these years like a lost puppy, trusting he’ll lead me to safety.
After all, his home was my first experience with comfort—a place where the tightness in my shoulders released, where snacks and warmth and money were plentiful.
What problem couldn’t be solved in the Coldwell home?
Trip criticizes Carter for not making his own decisions, but haven’t I done the same thing? Waiting for someone to decide it’s my turn. To be loved. To live. How long is too long to wait?
Start by making yourself happy.
The blanket shifts next to me, and Yesenia turns on her side, her hair scattered across the pillow like midnight ink on a white canvas. She’s not much older than I was when Carter told me about the curse.
Emotion swells in my chest at the ease on her face, her comfort with crashing on my couch. Maybe I can give her that same sense of security the Coldwells gave me. But one day, I hope she’s strong enough to find it herself.
I scrunch my nose, imagining her hiding in a bathroom stall, girls gossiping on the other side of the door.
Imagine her telling me she met a boy who is beyond her wildest dreams—who actually pays attention to her.
Who am I kidding? He’d be the lucky one in that scenario.
I imagine her following that boy into adulthood, clinging to him and hoping he’ll one day give her more than friendship.
My chest squeezes. It’s not enough for her. It’s not enough for me.
There’s a soft knock at the front door.
Time to choose myself. The right people will find me.