chirp—the fa?ade—slices through my eardrums. “So nice to hear your voice. You never call anymore.” I roll my eyes in response. She’s so good at faking it. So fucking good that I almost believe her.
“Yeah, hey,” I mutter, not feeling it. I swipe away my stray tears and straighten my spine, unsure of why she wanted to speak to me. We don’t get along. We can’t stand one another.
“I’d like you over for dinner tomorrow night. We need to discuss your future.” She says future like it’s taboo and I don’t have a career plan already. Must be another of her wedding scheme bullshit ideas.
“Sure thing, what time?” I play it off like it’s the simplest thing rather than the single most painful thing I’ll be forcing myself to do.
“Six. Your father is on a tight schedule.” Of course, he is.
“See you then,” I respond, not leaving room for more pointless words to be shared.
“And Josey, don’t upset your dad. He has enough going on as it is.”
I close my eyes, forcing the tears down, and nod, realizing she can’t see me. “See you tomorrow, Marsha.” I hang up before she hurts me even more. I didn’t even get the chance to talk to my own dad. She controls everything, especially us.
Tomorrow will either fix everything or further ruin what I’ve tried to build.
Either way, I’ll survive. I always do. Even when the person I love the most hurts me each step of the way.
Chapter Seven
The Day Before
Joey
“They want me to go to dinner tonight,” I tell Gray the next day when she’s emerged from showering after her swim in the pool, all while we sit eating popcorn. Best post-breakup day: popcorn, chick flicks, and shit talking. That’s why we’re here in the media room. Yeah, they have a fucking media room. The TV’s as big as one at a real movie theater. They even have an area dedicated to snacks and drinks and shit. It’s like I’m on cloud nine while being dragged down by memories. At least there are carbs.
“What do you want?” she asks tentatively. I stare at her, contemplating my answer. What do I want? My mom back. My dad back. Wes? No. He was a waste of my time. No one cheats unless they’re missing something or an absolute asshole. Or both. The fact that I didn’t realize what we were missing just shows we were lacking somewhere.
“Honestly, I need his help. Not just financially, but he’s the best decision maker I know. It’s the only reason I agreed. While it’s a shitty thing to say, I feel cornered. Between my job gone and Wesley and I not being together... I’m fucked.” She nods as she places more popcorn in her mouth. She’s understanding in ways most chicks aren’t at her age. As if her life experiences—like mine—have taught her things she shouldn’t know yet.
“What about Wes, any reparations there?” she questions quietly, almost like it was out of habit and not because she believes there should be. I shake my head before answering, and she almost smiles.
“We were only meant to last what time we did. It’s like he was what needed to happen to get me to a new position in life. It’s an asshole-y thing to say, but it’s true. It hurts. Even thinking about it right now makes me sick, but it also provides clarity. It should hurt worse. I should be absolutely devastated. But I’m not. And that’s more telling than what I witnessed.” I rub at my eyes, wishing I could bleach them of that memory.
“Understandable. Even if relationships make zero sense to me, I’ve witnessed cheating and what it does to those around the ones involved. I’d jump ship or run far away. It’s just not for me,” she admits, drinking her Dr. Pepper to wash down the words.
“You okay?” I’d avoid asking her this altogether, but I can tell she needs to get something off her chest. It’s not always about me, even if she deflects to make it so.
“Just remembering the past few years of my life.”
“What happened?” She bites her lip almost too harshly. I watch her, seeing the way the life drains from her face. She’s sad; that much is obvious. Being burdened by life at such a young age isn’t something I’d wish upon a bad person, let alone someone as kind as Gray.
“I had a best friend,” she whispers, and her tone relays death.
“Who was she?”
“He,” she clarifies. “He was my entire