on the West coast, and with it still being in its infancy, I don’t want to delegate that to someone else. And there’s more work out west than there is here, we all know that.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Topaz’s shoulders slump. “This is all happening so fast.”
I glance over at Wren. “You can blame Fertile Myrtle for that.”
“Hey.” Wren shoots a sharp look my way.
“Are you happy with the fit?” the attendant asks my sister. She nods, and the woman helps her back behind a silk curtained dressing room.
“You sure it’s okay I’m bringing a date?” Topaz asks, reaching for my hand. We had lunch together last Monday, and I spent the entirety of it venting to her, holding back tears, and justifying my actions while she gave me some rare, undivided attention. She knows the state my heart is in right now.
“Yes,” I say with a little more force than the last time. “Do it. Bring him.”
Topaz exhales, her stare hardening. “You should call him.”
“What? No.” I don’t hide my annoyance. We’ve been over this. And she agreed. He’s obviously still in love with Kerenza. He hasn’t let go yet.
And he lied.
It’s easier this way, anyway. I’m moving. This makes things a lot less complicated. Besides, it was nothing more than a glorified summer fling, and summer flings aren’t meant to last.
At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself all week.
My stomach twists, the way it’s been doing all week every time I think of him. There’s been a heaviness in my chest, and it seems every other hour I find myself on the verge of tears over the most trivial things, like not being able to get the lid off the peanut butter jar or accidentally dumping out a brand new jar of Laura Mercier setting powder.
The fact of the matter is that I haven’t been myself all week. There’s no effervescence in me anymore. I’m not smiling or hopeful.
The fact of the matter is, I read the journal, I found the man, I got my answers, and for better or worse, I’m forever changed because of this experience.
I even threw the journal away yesterday, which was trash day. That thing is gone, buried in a pile of garbage in some landfill somewhere.
Forever.
And I refuse to dwell any longer.
People fall in and out of love every day.
Promises get made.
Hearts get broken.
Life goes on. Ace said it himself.
“You guys ready?” Wren emerges from the dressing room, her dress wrapped in plastic and slung behind her shoulder. “I’m starving. Where are we eating?”
Life, most definitely, goes on.
But it doesn’t stop me from missing him so hard my chest hurts.
Thirty-Three
Ace
* * *
Six days.
Six days ago, I held her in my arms for the last time.
Had I known it was going to be the last time, maybe I’d have held her a little tighter, a little longer.
I’m a mess.
I haven’t had a proper meal in days.
My face is covered in a thick shadow of facial hair.
And I’m not proud to admit that I’ve been watching Aidy’s Instagram makeup tutorials because I miss the sound of her laugh, the way her smile lights up her face. The way she rolls her eyes at herself and sticks out her tongue when she trips over her words.
Today is Wren and Chauncey’s city hall wedding, and tonight is their reception. I was supposed to go as Aidy’s date. We were supposed to celebrate together. I’m not a huge fan of weddings but I was excited to go there, to be with her, because for some completely insane reason that’s lost on me, I can’t get enough of this woman.
I’ve been told before that I’m too intense.
That I love too hard.
That I refuse to let go.
And for the longest time, I was convinced that was my greatest downfall. I trained myself to let go. To back off. But something tells me I’m going about this all wrong with Aidy.
She’s a feather.
And she needs a rock.
Peeling myself off the sofa, I suck in a deep breath and head to the shower.
I have to see her tonight.
I have to get her back.
My face is clean-shaven, and I stare ahead at my somber reflection as I straighten my tie. Showing up at Wren’s dinner may be in poor taste, but I’m not sure when I’ll see Aidy again. She hasn’t taken my calls or texts. She didn’t answer the door when I stopped by Monday. Or Tuesday. She needs to hear me out, and at this point, I figure