Chapter 23 #3
“My great-aunt,” I supply.
“Ah, yes. Your great-aunt, my apologies. I am very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” I nod quickly. “It was sudden, but I had time to say my goodbyes and—” My voice breaks so I press my lips together and nod some more instead of finishing my sentence.
Gwen smiles at me in sympathy and places a hand on my shoulder.
“You know, my mother passed away when I was around your age,” she says.
I inhale. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that.”
She removes her hand and takes another sip of champagne.
“Yes, and you know, those things are very hard. Grief is a very overpowering emotion. You can be as strong as ever and then whew! It’s just a different beast, and it shows no partiality.
” She shakes her head, and her eyes go distant like she’s going back to that place.
“I made some decisions during that time that can only be explained by not being in my right mind, if you know what I mean.” She squints at me like we’re in on the same joke, but I feel like I’m very obviously on the outside.
“There are boys I dated and people I hung out with that I never would have if my mother hadn’t passed.
” An abrupt laugh bubbles out of her. “But who can blame me? I was in a world of hurt. I was just seeking comfort. And you can’t make good decisions when you’re in that much pain.
” She looks to the left and I follow her gaze to see Declan talking to an older man in the distance.
We both seem to watch him for a second, and then I rake my eyes back to Gwen’s perfect profile.
She takes a slow inhale like she’s lost in old, forgotten memories.
“My only regret is hurting people along the way. I thought they were what I needed at the time, but once the fog cleared, I was able to see what a terrible fit we were. And besides, it wasn’t fair of me to rely on them when I wasn’t emotionally stable enough to give them anything in return.
” She tilts her head as she looks at me, narrowing her eyes like she’s assessing if I’ve caught the real meaning of her words.
And I have.
The words she didn’t say are louder than the ambient chatter of the ballroom, which seems to whoosh around me like my head’s being dunked underwater.
I would have rather she scream in my face.
I become aware of my heart beating in my chest. My mouth goes dry.
“Hi, Mom,” Declan says, appearing beside Gwen. “I see you’ve done some catching up with Blair.” He hasn’t looked at me yet and he’s smiling with so much joy that I feel my stomach turn.
Am I in too much pain to make decisions clearly? Am I going to end up hurting Declan again?
When Declan’s eyes catch mine, his face falls. All the happiness slides away at the sight of my panicked, far-off stare, and it feels like a microcosm of what’s to come.
“Blair,” he starts. “Are you okay? You look pale.”
I stare back at him, unable to move as the fear of what his mother implied races through my brain.
I can feel her stare burning the side of my face as she awaits my response.
I can feel her waiting for me to make her words come true.
The thought of interacting with him while she watches makes me feel nauseous.
What if I really was doing this because I just wanted an escape from grief? Lottie only died two months ago. How could I be capable of making such a big commitment right now?
“Um, yeah,” I hear myself mumble. “I’m fine. Everything is good. Just a little crowded in here. I think I— I think I just need to make a phone call really quick.”
Declan’s brows furrow as I back away. He glances at Gwen and when I notice the satisfied look on her face, I spin on my heel and speed walk across the ballroom. I don’t breathe or think until I’ve made it to the double doors.
Immediately I push through them.
The cool night breeze hits my senses, and breathing feels easier for a moment.
I fish my phone from my purse and dial my mom.
It doesn’t feel like a conscious choice, rather muscle memory taking over.
But I feel panicked and now that it’s started, I don’t know how to tamp it down.
I just need to get away from Gwen’s assessing glare and Declan’s hope-filled expression. I need space to think.
“Blair?” She answers on the first ring.
“Hey, Mom. Can you come pick me up?”
“Uh.” I hear her standing up and rustling around. “Yes, sweetie. Hold on.”
I text her the address and she confirms that she can. We hang up and I cross my arms. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on the ocean’s frigid breeze hitting my cheek.
“Blair?” Declan says, footsteps sounding from behind me. “Hey, are you alright? What just happened in there?”
Tears start streaming down my face at the sound of his voice. I hate how quickly his mom’s words got in my head. But they’re in there now, and I need space to untangle the yarn-sized knot forming in my thoughts.
“I’m so sorry, Declan,” I whisper, hardly meeting his eyes as he steps around me.
“Blair, look at me.” He places the nail of his thumb under my chin and lifts. “What’s going on? You can tell me anything. No more running away, remember?”
I’m doing it again, my mind taunts. You ran out the first time, and you’ll keep doing it because you don’t know how to let him love you. So, don’t let him love you. Another tear streams down my face and over his hand.
“I can’t do this right now.” I ping-pong my finger between us. “I’m such an emotional wreck, I don’t even recognize what’s happening to me most days. I can’t drag you through that, too.” The words scrape out of my throat like a jagged thing trying to break free.
“What?” Declan shakes his head like a physical attempt to reject the words. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
“Of course I do. I’m proving that with how I’m acting right now,” I cry.
“I feel fine one second, and then the next it feels like my world is tilting, and I can’t breathe anymore.
I can’t prepare for it. I can hardly name it while it’s happening.
It’s like this foreign object has taken residence in my body, and I don’t know what it is, and I want it out, and I just can’t—” I take a gasping breath.
“Breathe, Blair.” He steps toward me and takes my writhing face in his hands. “I need you to breathe.”
“I—” I hiccup painfully. “Can’t.”
I try to force air in, but it feels like I’m sucking through a tiny straw. The right side of my face starts tingling. I try to suck in air again, and it comes in two staccato bursts. The first, shallow and abrupt, and then another quick, jagged gasp.
“Come here,” he whispers and uses his palm to cradle my head as he pulls me into his chest.
His body is warm, and I concentrate on the pressure of his palm on the back of my head.
It feels like he’s protecting me from the entire world with that one hand.
I quiet enough to hear his heart beating.
And finally, I exhale. My next breath in is steady, uninterrupted by involuntary gasps.
He caresses my back with his other hand, slow and firm.
“You’re okay, Blair,” he says softly into my hair. “You’re okay.”
“But I’m not,” I whimper. “That’s the problem, Declan. I’m not.”
He goes silent and my face crumples into his chest one last time before I do what I need to do.
I push away from him and look up into his eyes, hardening mine.
“Thank you for tonight. It was perfect. You are perfect. But I can’t do this right now.
I need space from us because I can’t—” He looks like he’s about to interject, and my voice rises on instinct.
“I just can’t choose this right now. I don’t know if I’m thinking clearly, and I don’t want to hurt you again. ”
“Blair, what—what are you doing? What is this? Did my mom say something to you?”
I press my lips together and shake my head.
He takes a step toward me.
“Don’t do this,” he pleads, reaching for my hands.
I take a step back and wrap my arms around my chest. “I just— I need a few days to think. I feel like—” It feels like my head is about to combust, so I blurt exactly what I’m thinking.
“How am I supposed to know I’m thinking clearly if I’m not thinking clearly?
” My voice breaks, desperate with longing to finally, for once, do the right thing. To not hurt him again.
His eyes soften like he sees the war going on in my mind. And it’s not one waged against him. Or even us. It’s against myself.
Declan looks like he’s about to say something, but my mom’s car pulls up to the curb and I run to it like it’s a red buoy in an endless sea.
“I’m so, so sorry, Declan. I just need some space to think. That’s all. I’m so sorry.” I repeat it pathetically as I open the passenger door and step in. I’m still repeating it in my head when I arrive home.
I’m sorry, Declan. I’m so, so sorry.