When I got to the apartment, I sank against the back of the door and cried. I sobbed for every time I’d put off what I’d known I should do three weeks ago. I wept for the pain I’d put Gavin and myself through. I cried for every day that we’d found ourselves torn apart by my own fears.
That stupid Birkin bag was waiting for me on the counter.
I finally answered Lana’s call after I’d cried myself into the shower floor and then laid in the cold bed staring at the ceiling for a while. I imagined how Tyler and our families would react to my calling off the wedding. God, it would be a disaster. However, I had to.
I couldn’t go through with it.
I was in love with Gavin, and he was who I wanted to spend my life with.
Happily.
I poured a glass of red wine as Lana told me about her day.
I hardly heard what she was saying. All I could think about was how just one look between Gavin and I could spiral us into madness. But that’s what we were—one breath away from losing all control just to have the other.
I barely noticed that I had stopped drinking my wine and was instead wiping the counter and drying dishes, or even that Lana had stopped talking and was staring at me.
“Babe—earth to Chloe—” I finally heard her say, snapping her fingers at the screen.
“What—Oh, sorry,” I managed, breath leaving me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind,” I said.
Lana took another long swig of her water. “Like?”
The bag snagged my attention in the corner of my eye. I almost turned my wine glass over the top of it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I picked it up and held it in front of the screen, and Lana choked on her drink.
“Is that—“
“Yep.”
Lana picked her phone up and held it closer to her face, clearly in disbelief at what I had on my kitchen counter. “Shouldn’t you have on gloves when touching that thing?”
“Probably,” I said, turning it around. “I’m thinking of pouring this bottle of wine in it and setting it on fire, though.”
Lana gasped. “Bitch, no. That’s… Fucking hell. Well, on that note, I need you to tell me if I should change my flight.”
I sat the bag back in a safe spot far away from the wine. “What do you mean?”
Lana raised a knowing brow. “You’re getting married in less than three weeks, and while I would love to wear my sexy dress, enjoy some expensive, delicious food, and hopefully get railed over backward in the coat closet, I would also love to see you genuinely happy. So, I need to know if I should change my flight.”
My cheeks heated, and I began absentmindedly wiping my counter again, staring at the ring on my hand. Emotion pricked my eyes and burned my nose. I clenched my jaw to pull it back, but I could barely hide it with Lana.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked, my voice shaking. “What… Lana, how am I supposed to do this?”
Our eyes met, and she gave me a tight-lipped expression of sorrow.
“There are nearly three hundred guests,” I said, unable to hold it in. “Everything is paid for. Food, tables, photography, my dress, the band, the fucking coordinator. Not to mention the guests coming in from all over the world. Tyler’s uncle is coming in from Saudi Arabia, for fuck’s sake. I just…” I slumped into the chair, setting the phone against the bowl in the middle, and sank my head into my hands.
Lana chewed on the licorice rope she was snacking on, and I could feel her scrutinizing gaze.
“Do you remember when we first met?” Lana asked.
“You picked me up at a bar,” I replied, recalling how she’d happily sat beside me and started chatting like we’d been friends for years.
