“Is that really the most important question right now?” he asks.
“I think it’s a very good question,” I argue, standing. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk,” he says. “Why Bonnie?”
I clench my teeth, barely able to keep it together. “WhynotBonnie?” I breathlessly ask. “Why Andi?”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“Why not? You said we shared something the other day. Let’s talk about your obsession with your best friend’s sister. Why Andi?”
“Donotbring my wife’s name into this,” he warns, and the tone of his voice is more deadly than anything I’ve ever heard.
I glare at him, not stupid enough to continue with the subject if I want to keep my eyes. “I don’t have to tell you why I’m obsessed with someone. I don’t have to give you any kind of reason—”
“Did you tell her?” he asks.
My jaw begins to quiver, and I strap my arms around my chest. “No.”
He sighs heavily. “Why? You were with her all day. All night last night.”
“Forgive me for wanting one more fucking day with her before ruining us both entirely,” I say slowly. “Forgive me for not wanting to add to her anxieties when she’s spent most of the last forty-eight hours crying and scared. How could I have piled more onto that?” I ask, my voice rising.
“The longer you put it off, the more it’s going to hurt her,” he says as he shakes his head. “You know that. After everything she’s been through, everythingyou’veput her through—”
“Tell me what all I’ve put her through, Mads,” I demand. “Tell me because I’m all fucking ears.”
I snap harder than I mean to; however, once it’s out there, it’s done.
I can’t hold it back.
“You followed her all those years,” he says. “You left your symbol in random places. The texts. The photos inside her apartment—”
“I sent her those things so she would know I’d get her out of any trouble she found herself in. So she would know I was there—”
“That’s bullshit—”
“Is it?!” I almost shout. “How do you know? Did you notice her back then? Because from where I was standing, all of you did a shit job helping her.”
“You don’t think we tried?! Bonnie was a fucking fortress. She barely let any of us in,” he argues.
“Oh, that’s the excuse you’re going with?” I give a fake laugh. “None of you even knew her mother was dying because you didn’t bother asking. None of you cared to find out why she felt the need to drink all fucking day long just to get through it. All of you were so fucked up and selfish during that first tour that none of you saw herdying in front of you.”
A muscle feathers in Mads’ jaw as if he’s remembering that tour—the parties, the drugs, the absolute mayhem they caused. How they nearly lost their record deal because of it.
“She never said anything,” he says, swallowing. “None of us… We were all fucking stupid that tour, I know that. We didn’t see it.And you weren’t there—”
“I didn’t need to be in every fucking room with her to see her dying,” I snap. “Did she ever even tell any of you about that Halloween? The one before she went to rehab the first time?”
Because I’m so fucking tired.
Mads blinks, pain stretching in his eyes. “What are you talking about?” he asks.
I scoff. “I bet all of you were so fucking happy looking back on that rehab stay. It was the wake-up call all of you needed. Bonnie going sober saved all of your asses.”
“No one is denying that,” he says.
“No, they aren’t. But none of you bothered to ask what her breaking point was.”
