a pom-and-pie crisis has now evolved into a full-blown entire-life crisis, and I guess I have Nick to thank for teaching me a valuable lesson, one I maybe should’ve learned a long time ago. It isn’t fair to expect people to put up with my bullshit, to welcome me with open arms when I treat them like garbage. I may have to stay up for the next forty-eight hours to get everything done, but that’s my problem, not anyone else’s.
I walk past house after house, each one probably home to a family that loves and helps each other. A group of people who can count on each other, not just one woman who has to shoulder everything all by herself. They’re all sleeping peacefully in their beds, not even realizing how good they have it, while I clomp down the sidewalk, sad, alone, carrying a bag of tissue paper decorations.
I finally reach home and I’m about to walk down the driveway to the carriage house when I hear a tiny voice say, “Um . . . hello?”
I jump and drop my bags, then squint in the darkness. “Annie?”
She stands in the small front yard, behind the wrought iron fence, holding . . . a leash.
“Do you have a dog?” I ask, crouching to pick up my bags.
“What are you doing?” she asks me.
“You go first.”
In the darkness I see her shrug. “Uncle Don and Tyler got a dog. They went to the Columbus Humane Society ‘just to look,’ but you know how that goes, and now . . .”
“Now they have a dog.”
Annie picks the dog up, and even in the dark I can see it eyeing me warily. “She’s some sort of terrier mix, I think? All I know about her is that she loves barking, peeing, and dog treats.”
“Wow.” I take a step closer, the gate between us. “Don got a dog and I didn’t even know.”
“You should come over more often,” Annie says gently.
“I’m busy.” The words come automatically.
“Speaking of which . . .” She points with her free hand at my bag. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I say, attempting to shift the bag and then almost dropping it again. “I’m gonna go into my apartment and—”
“Chloe,” Annie says in a voice so full of understanding and warmth that I almost want to cry. “Just come inside.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Annie sits me down on the floral sofa and wraps me up in a crocheted blanket.
“I should be taking care of you,” I complain. “You’re the one who’s getting married in five days.”
“But you’re the one who’s shivering,” Annie says. “It’s chilly outside! Why were you wandering around without a coat?”
“I didn’t even notice.”
Annie plops down beside me on the couch and we sit facing each other, our legs pulled up and tucked under us. “Chloe. What’s going on?”
I sigh. “Do you want the long version or the short version?”
She rolls her eyes. “You know I want the longest of long versions, with copious tangents.”
I explain to her what happened with Nick. She widens her eyes when I tell her we slept together but doesn’t say anything (although I can tell that it’s hard for her). I tell her about what happened after the premiere with my dad, how I haven’t spoken to Milo since, and how awful work has been. I tell her about how Nick wants us to be partners at the shop and she finally interrupts me.
“You would be so good at that.” She reaches out and puts a hand on my knee. “You know you would.”
“I’m also pretty good at making decorative poms,” I say, pointing to the bag on the floor. “That doesn’t mean I need to make a career out of them.”
“I told you, you don’t have to do that, okay?”
“But I want to!” I say, my voice rising. The dog lifts her head up from her place on the floor and gives me a curious look. “Wait. What’s the dog’s name?”
“Leia.”
“Huh. I would’ve assumed Don and Tyler would go for more of a Star Wars deep cut.”
“Don said she looks like a Leia, and don’t change the subject.” Annie prods me with her foot. “What’s so wrong with being partners with Nick?”
I shake my head quickly. “I’m not like you, Annie. I’m not like Don.”
“Thank goodness,” Annie says. “I love him, but I can only handle one Don.”
“I mean . . . it’s not that easy for me, having a relationship. I’m not the kind of person who can just be with someone.