"Thank you."
I blink, confused, and wondering if maybe the cancer has spread to her brain. "What?"
"Thank you.Seriously. Because I actually will enjoy the time I have left—however long that is.I'm going to enjoy it with Callum," Sophie says, turning to smile up at the large man whokisses her forehead, wraps his arm around her shoulders, and pulls her even closer to him. She turns back to me, a serene smile still on her face.
"And, well..." She shrugs, "You can have Paul.He's all yours."
I open my mouth to retort that Paul's not mine, and then snap it closed, realizing if I let her know that, I'd just be admitting even more defeat to this girl. Gritting my teeth as I watch the couple turn to each other and embrace, forgetting all about me.
I turn and stomp out of the store, slamming the door hard enough to make the bell crash to the ground.
???
Two days later of wallowing in my hotel room, I go to the liquor store, grab a bottle of vodka, and head to the beach. Gone are the days of private beach parties in the Hamptons, of spending time at whatever man I was fucking's beach house, of luxury island vacations.
I'm having my own little party, just me andTito.
The sharp wind is biting, but at this point, I'm drunk enough not to feel anything. I finish half the bottle, my heels kicked off into the sand as I flex my toes compulsively. They're turning blue, which is probably a bad sign, but I don't give a fuck. I can't find it in me to care about anything anymore. I lie back on the sand, the wetness of it soaking into my shirt, and I stare at the darkening sky.
I tried to call Paul in desperation yesterday, but my number has been blocked.
I even tried to call a couple of my old friends, and only Sarah answered. She sent me some pity money and then told me to lose her number. I feel alone. Truly alone for the first time in my life.I'd always been surrounded by people—the help, au pairs, my dance instructor, dieticians, gym trainers, my friends, and now...
Nothing.
My phone buzzes, and I feel a stab of hope skyrocket in me before I can tamp it down. I don't even look at who's calling when I answer.
"H-Hello?"
"Elise."
My heart drops into my stomach at the voice, and my fingers tighten around my phone. That voice, that very unwelcome voice, I haven't heard from in over a year.
"Mom?"
"Your father's dead."
She says it so bluntly, so baldly, I'm convinced I mishear her. All the noise fades away—the ocean, the distant sounds of the boardwalk, traffic. All of it is gone. The only thing I can hear is my heart slamming in my ear, threatening to burst from my chest.
"Elise... hello, are you even listening to me... Elise!"
"What?" I ask, once I take a couple of breaths to compose myself. "He's... he's gone?"
"Drowned himself," she supplies. Her voice is half slurred, so I know she's been having a night. "Or just drowned. I don't fucking remember what they told me, and honestly, I don't fucking care. Good fucking riddance."
Her words don't make sense.
My father is dead. My father is dead.
My father is dead, and I hate the stinging of my eyes, the moisture gathering that blurs the ocean in front of me, and the hot tears that slip down my cheeks. Why am I crying for a man who didn't love me, who didn't want me? He doesn't deservethem. He's not owed my grief. Fuck him.She's right, good fucking riddance.
And yet...
"Elise, pay attention!"
"Sorry," I apologize reflexively, my voice scratchy.
"I'm calling you to let you know he's gone," she barks a humorless laugh, "Oh, and he didn't leave us a fucking thing. Donated it all to fucking charity, and that little bitch Claire got a nice little donation to her art gallery.As if she’s not married to a fucking Salvatore!Useless while alive and now useless while dead..."
