39. Whitney
39
WHITNEY
I blink into the empty room, tremors rocking through my body, cold blanketing me like a winter shadow.
I love you.
The words are still lodged in my throat. I’d been waiting for days for this moment. To finally tell Liam how I feel. To hear him say the same. To know, once and for all, that our marriage was real. That somehow, in this crazy mess, we’d found each other.
Instead, I just stood there. Silent. Frozen.
I said nothing.
Did nothing.
I tried to push away the memories that threatened to break through again, those images swirling through my head the second Liam’s words registered in brain. My mom, three whiskeys deep, sobs wracking through her chest as she cried over another guy who walked out on her. Walked out on us.
“Never trust a man,” she’d said . “They bring nothing but heartache.”
Moisture pricks at the corners of my eyes. My hands shaking, I reach for my phone. I should call Liam, beg him to come back and try to explain. Get him to understand the fear clawing its way up my throat, the cruel voice in my head telling me I wasn’t enough. That he wouldn’t stay no matter what he said. No matter what he promised.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ease the tremors rocking through my body.
Am I in shock? Is that what’s happening right now?
Flexing my fingers, I try to focus on the sensations in the room, what I can feel, hear, smell, and touch; the pads of my fingertips pressing against my arms, my knees digging into my chin, the soft crackling of the candle. Once I feel the shaking subside, I take a deep breath and reach for my phone, dialing Abbi’s number instinctively. As soon as I hear her voice, the tears that have been threatening to break through since Liam left finally come.
“Whit? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I shake my head, willing my chest to stop shaking with sobs. “Liam told me he loves me,” I manage through my tears.
“Babe,” Abbi replies. “That’s amazing! Why are you crying? Happy tears?”
“No,” I gasp. “I-I didn’t say it back. I just stood there, and then he left.”
“Like, he left? Or he left?”
Another sob rocks through me. “I don’t know. He said he would see me later.”
“Okay, then he’s coming back. When he gets back, talk to him.”
“I feel so bad.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I couldn’t stop thinking about all my issues. About my mom. I just felt completely out of control.”
“That’s okay,” Abbi says, her voice strong and reassuring. “It’s okay that you didn’t say it right away. It doesn’t mean you don’t love him. It just means you need time.”
I nod, my shoulders no longer shaking. Sniffling, I wipe at my face and take in a few steadying breaths. Abbi is right; I know she is. All I have to do is wait for Liam to come back, and we can talk.
“You’re right,” I say to Abbi. My phone buzzes and I glance down. “Hey, I have to go. I’m getting another call.”
“You sure you’re okay? Want to call me back?”
I sniffle again. “I’m okay. Thanks for being there.”
“Always,” she says.
I hang up and switch to my incoming call. “Hello?”
“Hey, peanut.”
Just what I needed in this moment. Caroline to drop back in and check on me. She must have some sixth sense, knowing that I was thinking of her. Thinking of the trust issues she drilled into my brain.
“Hi,” I reply numbly.
“I’m in the city. I’m staying with a friend, so don’t worry about me crashing again.”
This whole night has been a whirlwind. Ever since Liam came thundering through the door, everything has been off-balance.
“Can I come over?” she asks, a hint of urgency in her voice.
“Sure.” I hesitate for a moment before continuing. “Is everything okay?”
“It will be,” she says. “Be there soon.”
Hanging up, I glance around the room, wondering how the hell I got here. Caroline sounded… off. Maybe it’s because of my emotional state right now, but I feel uneasy, like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Yeah, so, listen. I need some money,” Caroline says.
There it is.
I turn to face my mother, sat on the other end of my couch, and run my eyes over her pale skin and the pronounced bags under her eyes. “What happened?”
She avoids my gaze. “Just someone I owe some cash. It’s not a big deal.”
“It seems like it is a big deal, if you came to me about it. I thought you had a job at that auto shop?”
“Not anymore,” she mutters. “Besides, that won’t cover this.”
“How much do you need?”
“Ten thousand.”
I blink, sure I must be hearing her wrong. There is no way my mom just told me she needs ten thousand dollars.
Dread creeps up my chest. “What’s going on? What did you do?”
She makes a noise of disapproval. “Do you have it or not? I know you got the first part of your inheritance. Ten G’s is hardly any of it.”
I shake my head, disbelieving. “You think I’m just gonna give you ten thousand dollars?”
She shrugs, a familiar callousness seeping into her tone. “Call it paying me back for eighteen years’ worth of meals, clothes… the whole shebang.”
“Paying you back?” I manage, my head pounding. A wave of nausea rolls through me, but I breathe through it. “I can’t believe you.”
“Whitney,” she says, her tone serious. “I need that money, peanut.”
“What’s going on, mom?” My voice shakes with fear. I’m starting to get worried. I know my mom has always been a bit of a player in the game of Life, but if she’s gotten herself mixed up in the wrong crowd or something…
Her gaze shoots to mine. “You got the cash or not?”
“Not right now,” I reply. The weight of his conversation, the fear of what my mom has gotten herself involved in, the longing for Liam to come back, all of it is pulling down on me, drowning me.
“What about the money from the will?”
“Most of mine is tied up in the salon right now.”
“Bullshit,” my mom growls. “Let me guess, you’re giving money to that husband of yours.”
“Mom,” I sigh. “Don’t start.”
“Sorry, I meant fake husband, since you only married him for the cash.”
I can’t listen to this anymore. Her words are pressing on a fresh wound, one that I need to tend to before it grows and festers even worse. Liam and I are okay. We’re fine.
“I told you I don’t need your opinion when it comes to my marriage.”
“Marriage? Yeah, right,” she scoffs. “You mean that pretend scam you’re pulling? If you had any sense, you’d be divorced by now.”
“He loves me,” I nearly shout. “He told me he loves me, and I didn’t say it back, but I’m going to. We’re in love.”
Her gaze turns pitiful. “Oh, peanut?—”
“I’ll get you the money, okay? Just give me a couple of days to move some things around.” I press the backs of my hands to my eyes, the pressure building. “I feel awful.”
“Is it a migraine?” she asks, her expression concerned.
I open my eyes, meeting her gaze warily. “Yeah,” I reply. “I think so.”
“You should go lie down.”
Not bothering to protest, I drag myself to my room and collapse onto my bed, light flashing behind my eyes. I hear a rustling and manage to open one eye to see my mom bringing me a glass of water and a damp cloth.
“Thanks,” I rasp as she presses the cloth to my forehead.
“I’ll see myself out,” she says, her voice a low murmur. “We can talk later. We have a lot to discuss.”
I can’t parse through what she’s saying or decipher her tone, too overwhelmed by the throbbing in my skull. I roll over, squeezing my eyes closed, hardly noticing when my mom slips from the room. Reaching into my nightstand, I grab my sleep mask and curl into a ball, willing the pain to subside.