Nothing makes sense.
I unlock my phone and pull up Daisy’s mom’s number, pressing dial. It rings twice before she picks up.
“Hello?”
“It’s Killian,” I say, skipping thehellos. “Any updates?”
Her heavy exhale causes the line to crackle, and the sound makes my stomach tighten. “She called me.”
I sit up straight. “What?” I ask breathlessly as I jump to my feet and begin to pace.
“Where is she? Is she there? Can I see her?”
I grab my keys from the coffee table and toe on a pair of sneakers; grateful I didn’t crack open a beer when I wanted to earlier. I’m halfway to the door when Mrs Bennetts next words cause me to halt in my tracks.
“She doesn’t want to see you, Killian.”
I freeze, all the blood draining from my face. “What?”
“Look, I don’t know where she is right now, or why. But I left her a voicemail threatening to call the police and she called me to assure me she was fine. That’s all I have right now, Killian.”
Right there, in the hallway, I sink to the floor. My head drops back against the wall with a thud as I squeeze my eyes shut. “Why is she doing this?”
Mrs Bennett’s tone is softer this time as she replies, “I don’t know. I’m sorry, son.” And then, she hangs up.
***
“Where did it go wrong, Dais? We were fine.” I shake my head lazily. “No. We were better than fine. We were great. We were newly married and in love.” I scoff. “Well, I thought we were in love. But the more time that goes on, the more I start to question whether you loved me at all.”
Taking a long swig from the bottle, I pause. “Was it all a game to you? What do you gain from doing this? Do you even care at all?” I shake my head again, a half-laugh, half-hiccup escaping me. “No, of course you don’t. Because if you cared you would answer your goddamn phone!” My voice rises with every word, frustration mixing with the effects of the alcohol flowing through my blood.
It’s been two weeks since the call with her mother, when she told me that Daisy didn’t want to see me. It’s been two weeks and two days since she left me standing at the altar. And still, my messages and calls go unanswered.
“Fuck,” I whimper into the phone, sounding pathetic. “I can’t do life without you, Daisy. Please just call me.”
With that final plea, I hang up.
***
“You need to stop this shit, Killian,” Noah says, kicking his boot against mine.
I’m face down on my bed, still dressed in the clothes from last night. The usual scruff on my jaw has turned into a full, overgrown beard and I’m ninety perfect sure there’s drool crusted in the wiry hair.
I don’t give a shit.
“Fuck off, Noah,” I slur into the pillow.
“No.” I hear him shuffling around my room before the curtains are wrenched open, the bright light of daytime blinding me.
“Are you fucking serious?!” I yell, pulling the pillow over my eyes to shield them. My head is pulsating, my hangover hitting me with a vengeance.
“Yes, I’m fucking serious. It’s been a month, man. You need to get your shit together.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Noah. Get the fuck out.”
“Get your ass in the shower. You smell like a goddamn distillery. And while you’re in there, shave that fucking hair off your face. I’ll wait for you in the living room.” With that, he stalks from my room, slamming the door with a force that makes me wince.
I reach for my phone on my nightstand and check for any missed calls or messages, but much like it has been for the past month, my notifications are empty.
