matter because he already made it apparent that he’s done.”
“What the fuck? He broke up with you? That asshole! I swear to God, I will murder—”
“No,” I cut her off, oddly irritated that she’s calling him an asshole. “It didn’t exactly go like that. I mean, he’s the one who walked away, but not without telling me I’m the one who did the breaking.”
“What? What does that even mean?”
“It means when he asked me what I wanted out of our relationship and I didn’t have an answer, he decided he was done.”
“Birdie, honey, I love you, but you’re really going to have to lay this all out for me so I can understand what in the hell went down. Pieces and parcels are not making things clear.”
“Fine,” I mutter and make myself comfortable on the bed.
And then, I tell my sister everything.
How it all started between Andrew and me.
How I went from hating him to enjoying secret sex with him.
How, at times, he was incredibly sweet.
How he’s the one who ordered the blueberry waffles.
I tell her about the surprise party at his parents.
The motorcycle ride last night.
And how shit went down this morning after I showed him the article and I had a stressful chat with an angry Candy.
Even though thinking about every detail, every memory, makes me feel like I’m falling apart from the inside out, I suck it up and leave no detail out of the equation. If there’s anything my sister deserves from me right now, it’s the truth. No matter how painful it feels to talk about it.
By the time I’m finished, Billie stays quiet for so long that I start to think the call has disconnected.
“Are you still there?”
“I’m still here. I’m just trying to process it all.”
I snort. “Tell me about it.”
“Birdie, I love you to pieces, and I’m always in your corner,” she begins, “but I have to be honest with you. I think, even though Andrew never actually came out and told you he wanted more with you, he wants to be with you. His actions were trying to show you that.”
I shake my head, completely taken aback by what she’s saying. “Billie, I don’t know about that. I mean, he’s the one who left this morning. He’s the one who said goodbye. Not me.”
“Yeah, well, a man can only take so much before his pride steps in and makes him walk away.”
“So, let me get this straight,” I retort. “You think I’m the one who pushed him away?”
“I know you’re going to get so mad at me about this. Hell, your stubborn ass is probably going to hang up on me the instant I say it, but yeah, you’re the one who pushed him away. Truthfully, you didn’t give him much choice.”
Anger floods my veins, and instead of screaming at my very pregnant baby sister, I hit end on the call and slam my phone back down onto the mattress.
Welp, it’s safe to say she got one thing right…
Instantly, I feel guilty for hanging up on her and grab my phone again, but instead of calling her—because, hell, I just can’t right now—I type out a text message.
Billie: It’s okay. Even though it was a total bitch move, I still love you.
Me: I love you too.
Billie: When do you fly back to LA?
Me: Today. My flight leaves in a few hours.
Billie: When does Andrew’s flight leave?
I sigh and shut my eyes, but eventually, I find the strength to respond.
Me: Billie. You need to let it go.
Billie: Fine. But just so you know, I think you’re being really stupid.
She always has to get the last freaking word.
Me: And I think your pregnancy hormones are making you crazy.
Billie: In my opinion, both statements are valid.
God, she’s so annoying sometimes.
Me: I’ll call you when I make it back to LA.
Billie: Maybe you should also call Andrew. You know, just so he knows you made it back okay.
Me: Shut up, Billie.
Her response? The middle-finger emoji followed by, I love you, even though you’re a total lunatic. I swear you’re just like Granny.
I roll my eyes and toss my phone down onto the bed and try to mentally prepare myself to pack my bags and get ready for my flight, but I find myself staring at my stupid phone.
Should I try to call him? Or text him? Or go to his hotel room?