“Brianna,” Reid sighed as he squeezed my shoulder. “You’re leaving to move on. I think you need to move on the whole way. I miss him, too. And I hope he’s okay, but that’s all on him now. Promise me you’ll at least try.”
I bit my lip, my way of holding back the tears as I nodded. I could move across the country, and if I kept myself tethered to Josh, it would still follow me. Giving up on him seemed so final, but maybe it needed to happen.
“I found it!” my mother sang as she came back to the cart. “I just saw your mother, Reid. We were both saying it seems like yesterday you guys were all in middle school.” Her eyes watered. “Have a great summer, sweetie.”
“I will, Mrs. Morgan. You, too!” Reid gave me a crooked smile before sauntering away to join his family.
I trudged behind my mother through the rest of the store, Reid’s words echoing in my head. I’d put goodbye off long enough. Maybe he was right. I did owe it to myself.
“Oh, look, honey. I haven’t bought these in a long time.”
I lifted my gaze from the floor and spied my mother holding a box of my favorite cupcakes. This time, there was no stopping the deluge of tears falling from my eyes. It was almost like some sick kind of sign. Who knew my greatest life epiphanies would come in two separate aisles of Target?
I shook my head and moped past Mom. “I don’t want them, Mom. Let’s go.”
“Hey, kiddo.” Dad knocked on my door with a stack of envelopes in his hand. “Looks like some college stuff came. I’ll leave this here.” He dropped the mail on my nightstand before giving me a sad smile. “Rough Target run, I heard.”
I laughed despite myself. “You could say that.”
He tapped my chin so I’d look up. “It may not seem like it now, but things will get better. I promise you.”
I forced another smile and nodded. “You’re right. It will. I’m looking forward to camp, Dad.”
“You’re lying, but that’s the spirit.” He kissed my forehead before leaving my room.
I grabbed the pile and sifted through the papers. A couple of forms from school, a few magazines, and a plain white envelope with familiar handwriting and a return address from South Carolina.
My hands shook as I tore at the corners of the flap and pulled out the paper inside.
Dear Bri,
I’m sorry it took so long for me to write. I’m sorry about a lot of things, but I don’t think there’s enough ink in this pen to list them all.
Boot camp is a bitch. I’m up way before dawn every day. I train in all kinds of weather, yes, just likeRenaissance Man, and the food I eat is questionable, at best. But, in a weird way, the pain feels good. I let everything go to shit, and the fight to get it all back is hard, but it soothes me. Like living out a punishment. I think that makes me a masochist, is that the right word? You’re the writer, so I thought you would know.
There are so many things I wish I had forgiveness for, but I would be an asshole to ask.
I hope you’ll still want to write to me, but if you don’t, I understand. No matter how I acted or what I did, don’t let what happened with me hold you back.
You’ll always be my Cupcake.
Josh
I read the letter ten times before I folded it and put it back in the envelope. He was okay, and he sounded like my Josh, or at least a less angry Josh. The brick of worry I carried on my chest all this time lifted, and I exhaled a happy gust of air.
A smile pulled at my cheeks as I thought about this summer and college in the fall. Josh was getting his life together, and it was time for me to do the same.
I waited a whole ten minutes before I grabbed a piece of paper and pen and wrote him back. When you loved someone, I guessed there were no truly severed ties.
Brianna
THE LIQUOR STOREaround the corner from my apartment building was an eyesore with its neon yellow signage and the rum posters with half-naked models, but by the grace of God, they were open—and had two bottles of wine with my name on them. All I needed was a straw.
As my high heeled boots sank into the fresh patches of snow covering the sidewalk, anger burned my insides. I tried to pinpoint what upset me the most. Was it Scott, who brazenly proposed in front of my parents, expecting me to say yes? After I got into my apartment, I realized as I fumbled through my drawer for a corkscrew that he didn’t evenaskme. “Marry me, Bri.” Like “Get me pepperoni, Bri.” A command, not a request. But Scott could have asked me on a carriage ride through Central Park—if they still had them—with violins and harps, and I still wouldn’t have said yes. A year ago, maybe. But not now. Because now, he wasn’t who I wanted to marry.
I wanted to marry Josh Falco. Arrogant, annoying, sexy as hell with lips of sin Josh Falco. My best friend whom I’ve been in love with my entire life, who loved me back even though he was too big of a jerk to say so. He stayed away “for my own good.” He didn’t tell me “for my own good.” Maybe he should’ve consulted me on “my own good.”
I yanked my Grinch nightshirt over my head and moped into my living room. I sipped my plastic cup of wine as I cuddled into the corner of my couch. Everything on TV right now was too damn happy. I wanted a continuous loop of my beloved Grinch while his heart was still two sizes too small.
