She went silent, her shoulders slumping.
“You’re right about serious relationships not being all hearts and flowers and orgasms, Jaime. That’s falling in love. Over time, it’s not that anymore. It takes work. It takes trust and sacrifice and faith in something you can’t see. It means sticking the fuck around when you’re scared or tempted or angry. It’s knowing that someone has your back and will be there at the end of your best days and your worst. It’s understanding that you’re part of something bigger than yourself, and fighting for it. I know it’s rare.” I softened my voice. “But that’s what I’m looking for. And life is short.”
She started to cry. “I don’t know what to do. I’m miserable without you, but I don’t think I’m capable of being what you want.”
You are. You just refuse to see it.
My chest hurt, and my gut was in knots. I wanted to hold her so badly, but I couldn’t give in, and I wasn’t going to argue with her. “If that’s the truth, then let me go.”
After a long pause, she stepped aside. I opened the door and shouldered by her without looking back.
I went right to Alex. “Listen, I have to go, but don’t let your sister drive home tonight. Get her a ride or keep her here. She’s been drinking a lot.”
“OK.” He looked concerned. “Everything alright?”
“I don’t know.” The truth was, I felt like fucking overturning the coffee table, maybe throwing it through the front windows.
“Let’s hang out this week, OK? I’ll make sure Jaime gets home safely or stays over.”
“Sounds good.” I shook his hand and he pulled me in for a hug. “Thanks.”
I let myself out and walked to my car with long, angry strides. What the fuck was I supposed to do with her? I think I love you? Did she really think I was just looking for the words? It wasn’t that hearing them from her hadn’t made me happy—it had.
But it wasn’t enough.
Twenty-Eight
JAIME
My eyelids felt like stubborn garage doors, but I managed to get them open after a few tries.
Oh, God.
The room wasn’t bright, but even the small amount of sun creeping through the blinds stabbed my retinas like a thousand daggers. My head was…not good.
Slowly, I sat up and looked around. Someone had put me in a guest room at Alex and Nolan’s house, or I’d put myself in here—I couldn’t remember. I was still wearing my dress, and my heels were on the floor.
Somehow I managed to hobble over to them, lean down, and pick them up, but the room was not cooperating. The floor pitched at strange angles and the walls appeared to be circling me.
I made it to the bathroom, where I thought I might throw up, but I didn’t. Then I thought about flushing myself down the toilet, but since that wasn’t an option, I used the bathroom, washed my hands, and splashed cold water on my face
Then I looked in the mirror.
MISTAKE.
I looked almost as bad as I felt. The carefully applied cat’s-eye liner had morphed into raccoon eyes. My face was pale, my eyes were bloodshot, and my matted hair made Margot’s blond bird nests look like gold satin. The effect of two cocktails and many, many glasses of red wine was not pretty.
“Whyyyyy,” I moaned.
But I knew why—to dull the pain.
When I thought about what had happened with Quinn, I felt the sharp sting of it poking through the haze of my hangover.
But I deserved it.
I’d fucked up.
Again.
It had seemed like such a good idea, cornering him in the bathroom, such a cute nod to our past, but then nothing had come out right.
Because I’m not good at that stuff. I don’t know how to do it.
Frowning at my reflection one last time, I made my way downstairs, carrying my shoes in one hand and my dignity in the other.
Nolan and Alex were bright-eyed and chipper, having coffee and muffins in the kitchen.
“There she is!” Nolan hopped up and grabbed a big glass from a cupboard, filling it with water. “You’re gonna want this, sunshine. I’ll get you some coffee and ibuprofen too.”
“Thanks,” I said weakly. My tongue felt like it had a fur coat on.
“How are you doing?” Alex grinned at me from over the rim of his cup.
“Don’t ask. Ugh.” I grimaced as I sat down at the kitchen table. “I think there’s a dead rodent in my mouth.”
Nolan set the water and ibuprofen in front of me and I tried to smile. “Thanks.”
“Want to talk about it?” my brother asked.
I swallowed the pills and some water before answering. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Quinn was worried about you.”
I sighed.
“What happened with that?” Nolan wondered, setting a cup of coffee in front of me before sitting down again.
“What happened was that I blew it about three weeks ago. And then I blew it again last night.”
“How so?”
I inhaled and exhaled. Even breathing hurt. “I saw what a bad breakup did to Margot, and I panicked that my feelings for Quinn were getting too serious.”
“Too serious for what?” Alex asked.
“For comfort.” I tried a sip of the coffee. “You know how I am.”
“So what did you do?” Nolan pressed. “Break it off?”
“Yes. But I was fucking miserable without him, so last night when I saw him, I had this brilliant idea that I could get him back—and it didn’t work.”