As she settles onto the floor, I reach into one of the drawers beneath the sink for a scrunchie and I gently work to pull her hair on top of her head to secure it into place before picking up my glass and sitting next to her, leaning my back against the wall.
“You’re drunk,” she says with a giggle.
“You’rethrowing up,” I counter.
Snorting a laugh with the back of her hand against her nose, she says, “David is gonna be so mad.”
“Oh well,” I tell her, reaching forward to push a stray hair back into her scrunchie. “It’s your special day. You’re allowed to be a mess.”
My thirtieth birthday celebration looked a lot different from Aislin’s; a quiet, candlelit dinner in a tucked-away corner of the beach with just Tripp and I, surrounded by my favorite food and treats. It was the perfect night.
I pull in a deep breath as I remember the crisp breeze that cooled our skin and the way that it felt to sit in my husband’s lap, being kissed and held and cherished.
And my heart plummets.
Quietly pushing the door closed behind Aislin as she pushes herself off of the floor and leaves in an effort to find her husband, what starts as a shaky breath quickly dissolves into a sharp sting behind my eyes. I sniff as I press the pad of my finger to the corners of my eyes in an attempt to stop my tears from falling, and a startled gasp forces itself out of me when the door to the bathroom is pushed open.
“Occupied,” I call out angrily, turning away from the idiot who apparently has no idea that a closed door means that a room is not available to them.
“Oh, sorry. Aislin left, I thought it was— Jules, are you crying?”
A red plastic cup is placed onto the counter next to me as Connor stumbles into view, dropping a supportive hand between my shoulder blades.
“Please leave,” I ask him, and as he opens his mouth to speak, I add, “and don’t tell Tripp that I’m in here.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” he says, gripping onto my arm. “Come on. Let’s go get him and get you home.”
I yank myself free from his grip, taking a staggering step away from him with a sniff.
“He’s going toleaveme. Do you know what that feels like?” I slur, pulling my arm away from him. “Every day, he’s further and further away from me. If I’m not pushing him, he’s pushing me, and I can’t…”
My head falls backward, my wrist swiping across my face as a heavy breath forces itself from my lungs.
“Jules—”
“It’s killing me,” I whisper through the burn in my eyes. “Sometimes, when he looks at me, it’s like he’s looking at someone he hates. I can’t lose any more.”
“You need to go home,” he tells me. “If you won’t let me get Tripp, I’ll get you a ride home.”
“I don’t need a ride home,” I argue.
Plucking the red cup from the counter, I move toward the door, but Connor blocks my exit.
His body straightens, crossing his arms over his chest with a challenging quirk to his brow. His eyes are faintly tinted with red, probably from playing one too many drinking games, and they don’t break from mine.
“Please get out of my way,” I plead, trying to shove past him.
Reaching for my wrists, he takes hold of them as he pushes me backward, both of us ignoring my drink – his drink? - as it falls out of my hand and onto the plush rug beneath us. My body presses against the counter as my eyes meet his, and I angrily try to twist myself out of his grip, but he holds firm.
“We’ve both seen this play out before,” he says. “If you go out there right now, you’ll embarrass yourselfandTripp, and you’ll ruin Aislin’s birthday.”
“You don’t understand,” I cry.
“So help me understand.” His head shakes, like I’m not making any sense to him. “What could have possibly gone so wrong from Wednesday night to now?”
My lower lip trembles as my mind races and I try to make sense of the thoughts and the doubt swirling around in it.
But I can’t.
