But she doesn’t.
And I realize this isn’t how it’s supposed to feel.
I’ve done quiet before. Done lonely.
This isn’t lonely. It’smissing.
A deep, marrow-level sense that something essential has been uprooted.
I thought I could live like this. Thought I could be okay with her leaving, with giving her the space she needed, the freedom she always fought for.
And Imeantit when I told her to go.
But I didn’t think it would feel like this. Like I’d peeled off my own skin and handed it to her.
My hand finds the neck of the guitar again. I play the same chord. It sounds clear. In tune.
But no matter how many times I play it, it doesn’t sound like music anymore.
It sounds like pretending.
I set the guitar down gently and stand, jaw clenched, breath shallow.
This is what life will be like without her.
I try to believe I can do it.
But I don’t.
Not even a little.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Lucy
Stella, Gabby, and I chat at Holiday’s about what the future holds. By the time they’re through with me, I feel more optimistic about being able to balance a long-distance relationship with Nash and still get to live my dream. The sorrow has faded and a tiny blossom of hope remains.
The fact that Nash is willing to support me through this? Beautiful.
The girls leave and I pull out my phone to call Mom to tell her the news. It’d be easy to tell her over the phone, but what’s easy isn’t always what’s right. This conversation should happen face-to-face. I shoot her a text.
Would you and Dad be able to meet me at Holiday’s for coffee? I’m here now and I have some news I’d like to share with you
Feels like an in-person thing
She replies within three minutes.
Yes. Of course. We’d love that. On our way in five!
Which surprises me more than it should.
I half-expected a delay. Hesitation. A soft “sure” that left the door cracked but not open. Instead, I got enthusiasm. No conditions. No disclaimers.
The knot in my stomach tightens anyway.
Holiday’s feels different in the late afternoon. Quieter. Less chatter. Fewer laptops and more retired couples splitting lemon cake. I share my news with Violet and Simon. She hugs me tight and he pulls a donut out of the case to celebrate.
I eat it at the table I shared with Stella and Gabby while a thousand questions spring to life. Will Dad find a way to turn this into a speech fest? Or will he surprise me with tenderness like the last text he sent me? They arrive just as I cram the last bite of donut into my mouth and wipe crumbs off my hands.
