I swallow the bile rising in my throat.
I want to tell myself that this is why I don’t do relationships.
Because I fuck them up.
Because there’s always a stupid misunderstanding and unrealistic expectations.
But that’s not what this is.
I have fucked up, yes.
Thisismy fault.
I should have told her. I should have told her where the script began and how I’ve changed it so that no one—no one—will ever realize she was the original inspiration. That my final drafts seldom resemble their original incarnation, generally because Idotake inspiration from real life, and I am very, very aware of how much danger I would be putting myself and subsequently my boys’ well-being in were I to ever be accused of malicious intent with one of my scripts.
Being broke is one thing.
Being destroyed is something else entirely.
And destroying the privacy and sanctity of someone else’s story—someone I love—is an unbearable thought.
I have to fix this.
I have to fix this for her.
If she’ll let me.
36
SECRET MENU ITEM TODAY IS LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE
Bea
My head isa gelatinous mass of dull throbs and slushy slowness as I set up the bus for one of the last Monday food truck days at the lake this summer.
“You don’t have to do this today,” Hudson says to me.
He, Ryker, and Daphne haven’t let me have a moment to myself since Saturday night unless I was in my own bathroom, and even then, they wouldn’t let me take my phone with me.
They didn’t make this big of a fuss when I broke up with Jake. Or Will. Or Andreas.
So either they think Simon hurt me more or our breakup is international gossip and they don’t want me to know that the story of my life is once again tugging at heartstrings across the country.
Except this time with me as the cranky witch who dumped Simon.
Because he betrayed me.
My eyes water. “What else am I going to do?” I ask Hudson.
“I don’t know. Go blow shit up in a video game. Play with goats at Ryker’s place. Bug Daphne at work. Take Griff up on his offer to fly you to Atlanta to see his games this week.”
“And who’ll run the bus?”
“Me.”
“I can’t ask?—”
“You’re not asking, Bea. I’m telling. I’m telling you I’m a grown-ass adult with friends who can run a burger bus without getting arrested or shut down by the health department while you go take a vacation and clear your head and decide what you want to do.”
