CHAPTER SIX
Three different pints of ice cream squeeze in between my thighs, the chill seeping into my Ms. Marvel pajama pants.
Valentine’s Day sucks. Connor and Rose planned their date for the past week at some fancy restaurant, leaving me to gorge on Chunky Monkey, Half-Baked, and Cherry Garcia alone.
I watch late-night cartoons on the high-def television, being transported back to my childhood years with Looney Tunes.
With each “that’s all folks,” my heart thuds and I turn my head, about to mention how much I liked or hated the episode to Lo.
Who’s not here.
He hasn’t emailed yet. Fourteen days into the month, and I haven’t heard a peep from him, not even a mention that he’s alive and well.
The last couple days of January, he sent me a bouquet of red roses.
I think he meant for them to arrive today.
At least I hope so—that way I’d know he still thinks about us and hasn’t planned to end our relationship for good.
My mother’s comment at the Fizzle event hasn’t calmed my worries either. If she thinks I need a “backup” plan, I wonder who else believes he’ll ditch me when he returns home.
That paranoia—it festers like a sore. I glance at the glass vase on my end table. The roses droop and wilt, but the card sits open. Remembering the words in Lo’s messy scrawl eases me a little.
These are real.
My chest swells. These are real.