“Don’t do this,” Janie pleaded.
“Because I hate myself. All my life, I rushed through everything—school, internships, jobs—just to get here and I hate it. Freaking despise it.”
I guzzled my wine and eyed Craig, who ran over with the bottle and filled me back up, no longer offering to listen to me.
Janie glared at me. “So, get a new job or something, but don’t go off the rails because of some guy who means nothing.”
“That’s just it, J. Why can’t he mean something?”
She crooked her finger and signaled for Craig to come back. “Craig, doll, isn’t Char a ten? She’s got everything, the whole package. Brains, beauty, breasts ... even with all that running.”
I’m a 32B. I hardly call that breasts, but whatever.
“Don’t answer that, Craig,” I said with a scowl. “Don’t feel like you have to lie.”
Janie smacked my arm. “Seriously, stop. You do. Nod your head if you agree, Craig.”
He nodded like a good puppy and escaped to the other side of the bar. The place was now full of people—sophisticated New Yorkers, yuppies and intellectuals, all pretending to be the city’s best.
Blech.But isn’t that what I always wanted? What I always did? How I always acted?
“Look around you,” Janie said, motioning around the room with her hand. “This is your life, not some big, gentle, introverted music guy.”
My stomach churned, bile made its way up my throat, and I had to go.
“You know what? I don’t feel so great. I have to go.”
I stood and grabbed my purse and jacket. Slipping my arms through the buttery leather, I couldn’t help but remember Layton sliding his tux jacket over my shoulders. If I thought hard enough, I could smell him—the rain or dew, the cinnamon and the beer.
Janie stood and tried to wrap me up in her arms. “Charli, I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”
“Seriously, it’s fine. I’ve just had a long week.”
Tossing my bag across my body, I hightailed it out of there.
And went straight home to Lucy.
FROM:[emailprotected]
TO:[emailprotected]
SUBJECT: God, I’m so sorry
Layton –
I’m so sorry. I’m not even sure why I feel compelled to write this, but I do. There’s that and I’ve had some wine. Okay, a little more than some.
I wasn’t very nice when we met on the plane, and yet you tried to be kind. You started a conversation with me, and were kind enough to find me and check on me after. Yes, a bit stalkerish, but also persistent and sweet. Although, I have to be honest, I didn’t want to appreciate it.
Then, like some kismet way of the world, we were thrown together at the premiere, and again, you were nothing but sweet. Our abbreviated sushi dinner was one of the best I’ve ever had in a long time. But once again, I threw your niceties away in the trash because at the end of the day ... I’m a bitch.
So, I’m very, very sorry. More than you will ever know, Layton. I have no excuses, nor are there any worthy.
I guess you were right. I’m not so happy with what I’m doing right now, but this was my plan, so I’m locked in.
That’s about it.
Forever sorry,
Charli
P.S. I miss your videos and pictures of your dog.
I pressedSENDbefore I could regret it or second-guess it any more than I already had, and curled up in my perfectly lavender bed and fell asleep to the sound of Lucy humming.
