“I’m so,sosorry. I really had no idea you hated him when I asked you to travel with him. I thought you had a crush on him in high school. I really thought I was helping?—”
“You were,” I cut in. “You didn’t do anything wrong?—”
“Let me finish,” she says firmly.
I clamp my mouth shut.
“That’s a huge lift to ask of you, Annie, what the heck? To sit in a car for seven days with someone who hurt you? And I’m freaking out right that you’re dealing with it in an unhealthy way because you didn’t have a choice, and that is entirelymyfault.”
Her voice breaks on the word “fault,” and I feel it crack right down my chest. Tears spring to my eyes, fast and hot and completely unwelcome.
“Annie,” she says, and this time it’s my name wrapped in so much love it nearly levels me. “I almost feel like you did this because you didn’t want me to be upset. That’s not right. Now, I repeat my question. Are you okay, or do you want me to get you a train ticket from wherever you are to Miami?”
I glance at Nico over in the car, through the windshield. He’s sitting in the passenger seat, fiddling with his phone. He doesn’t even look over, but I know he’s aware of me, attuned to me in a way that makes everything… too much.
“I’m… okay.”
“Annie,” May warns.
I drag in a shaky breath. “Plum.” I swallow. “I didn’t mean to fuck this up. I swear. I didn’t come here planning to—”To what?! Fall in love with my worst enemy?!
“You didn’t fuck anything up,” she says quickly. “Fuck what up? My wedding?”
I glance over again. Now Nico’s looking at me—really looking. His eyes meet mine through the windshield, and they’re soft and unwavering and devastatingly kind. His brow creases, like he knows I’m in a moment. Or, like he’s just waiting for me to come back to him.
I swallow and decide to go for a subject change. “Your wedding is going to be perfect. I’m going to make sure of it.”
“Annie,” she enunciates. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Am I?
“I’m fine,” I say with force. “Don’t worry about anything other than yourself and your wedding.”
“You’re not fine.” She sighs. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, and we are having a long chat. Got it?”
“Got it. I am at your command, dear bride.”
I can hear her rolling her eyes over the phone. “I love you.”
“Love you.”
Am I okay?
When I get back to the car, I don’t say anything. I just open Nico’s door, climb into his lap, and curl myself up, knees to chest. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t question—just wraps his arms around me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Sitting there for half a second, after six days in this car, I come to a realization.
I’m not afraid here. Not of him, and not of myself.
His chest rises steadily under my cheek. I press my ear to it and try to match his rhythm, absorb this feeling, the feeling of Nico, a cool flow of water down an eternally parched throat.
I could stay like this. I could stay right here. I could be this version of myself—the one who doesn't always break the things she touches, who can finally appreciate her younger self for giving her so many wild, joyful memories… and the grace to walk through the world more gently now.
I’m not just okay.
I’m anchored.
I’msafe.
