Do you hear yourself?I glare at my reflection.
Yeah, there’s no hiding this. With my mind a mess, I call my mother. I need more information. It rings once and then goes to voicemail. Ugh. This woman. She can’t drop a bomb on me like she did today and then just ignore me.
After the beep, I sigh. “Mom, we need to talk. Call me back.”
When I end the call, I find I already have a text message from her.
Mom: Hi honey. Sorry I missed your call. I stopped by your apartment, but you weren’t there. My pilot friend is going to be in Boston tonight, so I’m headed back to the airport. Hope you don’t mind, but I saw the cash in the envelope on the counter. I’ll pay you back. Promise!
I squeeze my eyes shut and ball my fists. That fucking money was for my landlord.Shit.
But then I breathe out. Because she’s gone. And she can’t blow up my life if she’s not here.
I don’t even let myself feel the sting that should come with finding out she’s running off with a man rather than sticking around to see me. It’s nothing new. At least she’s not trying to seduce my boyfriend like she originally planned.
The second I finish that thought, I close my eyes and shake my head. My life is such a damn circus. I don’t know how I’ll pay my rent if she doesn’t pay me back, and I don’t actually believe she will, butright now I’m more concerned about why I haven’t heard from Camden.
Pulse pounding, I call him again. I just need to hear his voice. I need to know I still have him. I’ll feel so much better if I can just talk to him.
But it rings several times, and then his voicemail picks up. A minute after I end the call, a text finally comes through.
Daddy: I can’t do this. I’m sorry. You should go back home.
A manic laugh breaks free as tears blur my vision. “Home?” Where the fuck is home? Is he serious? I call him again, but this time it goes straight to voicemail. When the robotic voice tells me to leave a message, I throw the phone against the wall. “Fuck.”
He wants me to go home. Do I even have one? Have I ever?Thiswas supposed to be my home. My safe space.
And thanks to my mother, I can no longer even afford the small space on the third floor of my apartment building. The only other place that ever came close to feeling like home.
Camden felt like home too. And now I don’t have him either.
FORTY-THREE
CAMDEN
My heart has shatteredinto a million pieces. Jagged little things that will never find their way back together.
This is it. This is the point of no return. Over the years, it’s been sliced and bruised, but the damage could be patched up. Now, after this, it’s irreparable.
I really thought I’d found it. Happiness. Fuck, I even silently thanked Tara for breaking me, because if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found the love of my life.
Only the love of my life is Tara’s daughter.
Her fuckingdaughter.
I hold up a hand, getting the bartender’s attention.
He saunters over, a brow cocked. “You sure you should have more?”
I toss a handful of hundreds on the bar. “Leave the bottle and keep your opinions to yourself.”
With a shake of his head, he drops the bottle of brown liquid next to my tumbler. Then he slides the money his way and wanders off.
I don’t even bother pouring the whiskey into the glass. I just tip itback, take a swig, and drop it onto the mahogany. Then I pick up my phone.
Chest aching, I reread the last message I sent.
Me: I can’t do this. I’m sorry. You should go back home.
