Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
DAISY
Willa
How’s the hot weekend getaway going? I’m going to need an orgasm count
Me
…
Willa
Sorry, I don’t speak morse code
Me
He told me loves me
Willa
HOLY SHIT!
If you don’t make me your maid of honor I’ll be so pissed
Me
No wedding bells here - I bolted
Willa
You what??
*incoming call from Willa*
Pick up pick up pick up
*incoming call from Willa*
Don’t make me get on a flight!
*incoming call from Willa*
You better be dead in a ditch somewhere to ignore me like this
(But also please don’t be)
I’ve been staring at the cursor for the last hour, willing the words to come. But the harder I try to force them out the more locked up they all get. My brain feels itchy—I didn’t even know that was possible, but apparently staring at a blank page all morning will do that to you.
Every time I close my eyes, I’m back on that beach, watching Connor break all over again and feeling it a thousand times over.
Mom’s caller ID lights up my phone, making me feel a stone heavier. I turn my phone over and ignore the call because I can’t face regulating her emotions when I can barely control my own. When it rings again a second later, I power down my phone just to get some peace.
I know I’m pushing people away—I know I’m shutting them out when I shouldn’t. I’m trying to be better at letting people in, because I don’t want to return home the same person I left. But I’m scared that if I do, I’ll feel like I’m drowning again.
I like to process things in peace. I’ve always been this way. I guess that’s what happens when you get told over and over again that you’re overreacting or being too dramatic.
Shutting down is easier than having to take anyone else’s emotions into consideration. Which is why I’ve been hiding out at the library for the last few days since coming back from the lake house.
I toss my laptop onto the couch cushion beside me and curl up against the armrest, hugging my knees to my chest. There’s a pounding in my head that’s been there since Monday night.
I haven’t seen Connor since I let Aiden drive me back on Sunday. I’ve spent the last four days stewing in an empty apartment on my own, wondering where the hell Connor is sleeping and then chastising myself for even caring.
Every time I hear footsteps out in the hall, I wait for them to stop at our door, for the sound of keys jangling in the lock. I feel a crash of disappointment wash over me every time they continue past our apartment. He’s probably back to rotating beds again now that I can’t give him what he wants.
The rational part of my brain knows that’s not the case, not when he was looking at me like I made his world crash down around him.
I push the roaring guilt away and try to focus on the words that won’t come instead, telling myself over and over again that I made the right decision. That this is the only way to make everyone in my life happy.
I only get dressed later that week because the girls ordered me to before they lured me out with the promise of wine. Even then, I’m the pity party version of myself.
I curl up on Lauren’s bed and take a swig of the bottle of white wine she just opened. “Do you want a glass with that, tiger?”
I shrug, gulping down another sip, bigger than the one before. I’m craving the buzz I know I can get from alcohol, anything not to feel the hollow pinch in my chest. “I like it better this way.”
“You’re right, much classier,” she concurs, reaching for the bottle. I reluctantly let go of it, sinking further into the mountain of pillows on her dorm bed, hoping I can disappear in them.
She takes a swig and hands the bottle back, just as Vanessa appears in the door opening with an armful of snacks.
Vanessa takes one look at me drinking straight from the bottle and gasps like I’ve just committed the worst offense in history. “I’m all down for self-pity but this is taking it to the extreme.”
“It’s not self-pity, it’s wallowing. There’s a difference,” Lauren tells her as she snatches the bottle back from me and takes another sip.
“You’re not supposed to encourage the wallowing.” Vanessa drops the snacks on the bed before swatting at Lauren’s arm and trying to wrestle the wine bottle away from her. “Don’t make me stage an intervention on you too!”
“This is an intervention?”
“Surprise!” Lauren beams, and I can’t help it. I burst out laughing, because this is all so ridiculous.
“It’s not a fucking surprise party, Laur.”
“We’ve got snacks and wine and we’re about to watch Channing Tatum take his shirt off. It feels like a party to me.”
“I prefer your version,” I say, snatching the bottle back from between them.
“You guys are hopeless.” Vanessa sighs as she climbs up onto the empty spot beside me, until I’m nestled between both of them, anchoring me on either side. She reaches for the bottle with a sigh.
“If you can’t beat them, join them,” she mumbles before taking a huge gulp. I giggle, already feeling a little drunk, as I rest my head against her shoulder.
It’s not just Connor I’m saying goodbye to. It’s my friends too. I’ve had a taste of what life could be like and I really like it. I like who I am in Southbay.
“Are you going to tell us why you’ve been hiding away from the world, or do you want me to fast forward to the shirtless scene?”
“Shirtless scene, please.”
“You two are so fucking stubborn.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Please, he’s been moping around like a lost puppy all week, pretending he’s fine.”
“You’ve seen him?”
“Yeah, it’s been pretty hard not to. He’s been sleeping on the couch at the hockey house.”
“He has?”
“Where did you think he was?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I figured he probably had a dozen invitations for sleepovers.”
Lauren snorts on the other side of me. “That man is obsessed with you. I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten that other women exist.”
“He’s not obsessed with me.”
Vanessa leans across from me to shoot Lauren a knowing look. “See, fucking stubborn.”
“I knew we should’ve gone with kidnapping them and forcing them in a room together.”
“What?” I exclaim, my head moving between the two of them.
Vanessa dismisses my concern with a hand, snatching the bottle back. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t about to add felony to my record.”
“You have a record?” I raise a brow, finding it hard to reconcile my sweet friend with the idea of breaking any laws.
She grins, wiggling her brows and pointing the neck of the bottle at me. “There’s so much you don’t know.”
“Now you have to share,” I tell her.
“I’ll tell the story if you tell us why you’re hiding from the world.”
I snap my head forward again, suddenly very interested in the paused move on Lauren’s laptop. “Let’s watch Channing Tatum lose his shirt.”
Vanessa snickers beside me, while Lauren leans over to press play and I sink further into the mountain of pillows behind me.