Chapter 30
ANNA
I return to our hotel and launch my phone across the room. It lands with a soft thud on the bed. I hate nothing more in the world than that blasted phone. Except myself, of course.
If the very idea of using it to reach Holly didn’t disgust me, I’d be texting her right now. Because where is she?
I wring my hands and look around the room.
Her suitcase is still in the closet, open, her clothes neatly folded inside.
The dress she planned to wear to dinner tonight is hanging on the closet rod.
It’s a beautiful sundress in multi-shades of blue, homage to Santorini’s stunning architecture and views.
I saw it in the resort’s sundries shop after we checked in and immediately saw it on Holly.
While she showered before bed, I snuck out and surprised her with the purchase, unsure if she’d have the courage to wear it.
I mean, it isn’t a solid pattern. It’s vibrant like I know she is under that shellacked exterior that’s starting to crack.
Well, it was cracking before this afternoon.
At least she hasn’t left for the airport.
Ribbons of hope twine through me. She’s still in Greece. I can fix this. I need to go find her.
And give her another reason to hate me?
“Gaaaaawwwwwddddddd.” I yell into my cupped palms, muffling my scream.
I have no sense of self-preservation. I have no sense at all.
It’s over. This trip and our friendship is a bust.
Holly’s never going to speak to me again. The Whitmores? They’ll never think of me the same way again—as family.
And Leo. How can I explain any of this to him?
My shoulders droop under the weight of what I’ve done. I’ve lost them all.
“I’m so sorry, Zoe.” From habit, I seek her out on the table between the beds. But she’s not there because Holly walked away with her. Oh, my god. She didn’t walk away with Zoe because there wasn’t anything left of Zoe. She stormed off with the urn.
The tears I’ve managed to hold back during the two-hour walk back to the resort flood my eyes. I cry like I haven’t cried since Zoe passed.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. Holly! I jump for it only to find a message from Jalsa asking when I plan to upload my next #goodbyezoe photo. It’s been over forty-eight hours since my last post. She doesn’t want @LuxVacay to lose the momentum it’s been gaining with these new posts.
My stomach curdles with humiliation and regret.
Ugh. That is the last thing I care about right now.
I shove the phone under the pillow. I want it out of sight.
It buzzes again with an incoming call. It’s a siren’s call, and my fingers itch to answer.
Don’t do it, Anna.
I turn away and turn right back. It could be Holly.
I reach under the pillow and see Alice’s name brightening the screen.
“Oh, Alice,” I answer, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “You always know when to call.”
“I was dusting the shelves in your room. You know that framed photo of you, Holly, and Zoe from your first vacation together, the one in Cabo? Well, I was thinking of you and wondering how it’s been going.” The sound of her voice wrenches another sob from me. “What happened, honey?”
“I did it again. I ruined everything,” I say when I find my voice and I tell her all of it, every last shameful detail.
“It was an accident,” Alice says when I finish. “The Whitmores will understand. Holly will see that when she calms down.”
Her words don’t convince me it was anything but my fault.
“She won’t, not this time.” Especially given how damaging my stunt was on our last Greece trip.
Reluctantly, deep down, I knew. Zoe relayed some of Holly’s troubles in the wake of “Anna-gate” as she fondly dubbed it.
But I chose to live in denial. I was too ashamed to face the truth.
My post of Holly, wet and in Theo’s arms while wearing lingerie, was a severe betrayal of trust. It hadn’t just embarrassed her. It had almost destroyed her.
What kind of friend does that?
No, I can’t risk making our rift any worse than it already is. Which means I can’t be here when Holly shows up. I’m also too ashamed to face the Whitmores. Leo will never forgive me either. I lost him before I ever had him.
“I’m coming home,” I say, defeated.
“Are you sure that’s the wise thing to do? Why don’t you wait until Holly gets back to the room?”
Removing myself from the equation is the only wise thing I should do. “There’s no way to fix this. Not this time. I’ll text you my flight information.”
“Okay, honey, if that’s what you want to do.”
It isn’t, but what choice do I have? As my parents seem to think, Holly and the Whitmores are also better off without me in their lives.
I end my call with Alice and go to the bathroom to wash my face.
I put my hair up in a messy bun and change into Versace leggings and a fitted white tank, and the flip-flops I reserve for airport showers during extended layovers.
I don’t care that I’m not my usual put-together self.
Without Holly’s friendship, it’s hard to care about anything.